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Charles > Lamb is familiar to us through his works, many 
of which are in the form of personal confidences ; through his 
many friends who have known his every mood and trait; 
through his letters, the most fascinating correspondence in the 
English language ; and for his devotion to his sister Mary 
through her almost continuous mental alienation. As a per- 
sonality, he is more intimately known to us than any other 
figure in literature, unless it be Samuel Johnson. His place 
in literature is unique and unchallengeable. 

In 1807 Charles and Mary Lamb wrote for William God- 
win’s “ Juvenile Library” their “ Tales from Shakespeare” — 

(viii) 


Introduction . 


ix 


Charles the tragedies and Mary the comedies. This was 
Lamb’s first success, for previously to this his experiments 
in literature had brought him neither money nor reputation ; 
/but the “ Tales” met with favor from the first — a favor 
that has continued to this generation and will survive it. 

In presenting this edition the publishers permit themselves 
to believe that it will achieve instant popularity. It is arranged 
for young readers, omitting such episodes and sketches of 
character as are not absolutely necessary to the development 
of the tales, and retaining the many moral lessons that lie in 
the plays of the man who “ was not for a day, but for all 
time.” 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Romeo and Juliet 1 

King Lear 31 

Othello 56 

Macbeth 80 

The Merchant of Venice 101 

Hamlet, Prince of Denmark 124 

A Midsummer Night’s Dream 153 

The Tempest 174 

(vii) 






















ILLUSTRATIONS 


Trial Scene — Merchant of Venice 


Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The Rival Retainers .... 




3 

Romeo ...... 




5 

Romeo and Juliet .... 




9 

Friar Lawrence Marries the Lovers 




13 

Juliet’s Feigned Death 




21 

Romeo and the Apothecary 




23 

Romeo’s Death 




27 

Juliet’s Death ..... 




29 

Cordelia and King Lear 




33 

Cordelia’s Farewell to her Sisters 




37 

Lear, Kent and the Fool 




41 

King Lear and the Fool 




47 

The Mad King ..... 




51 

“ I might have saved her ” . 




53 

Othello Relating the Story of his Life . 




57 

Desdemona Confesses her Love for Othello 




61 

“ My dear Othello ! ” . 




65 

Desdemona and Michael Cassio . 




67 

“ Then Iago went on to say — ” . 




69 

Desdemona Accused by Othello . 




75 

Death of Desdemona .... 




77 

“ As a Thunder-stroke to Othello ” 




79 

The Wierd Sisters on the Blasted Heath 




81 

Incites her Husband to the Deed of Blood 




85 

The Discovery of the Murder 




89 


(ix) 


X 


Illustrations. 


PAGE 

Macbeth sees Banquo’s Ghost 91 

Macbeth in the Cave of the Wierd Sisters .... 93 

Macduft’s Wife and Children Slain ..... 95 

Macbeth and Macduff ....... 97 

Shylock and Jessica 103 

Antonio Reproaching Shylock . . . . . .105 

Shylock: “ I’ll have my bond ” . . . . . .109 

“ A Daniel come to Judgment” ...... 113 

Portia and the Bond . . . . . . . .115 

Nerissa’s Bing . . . . . . . .123 

Hamlet and his Mother ...... 125 

Horatio and the Ghost . . . . . . .128 

Hamlet Sees his Father’s Ghost ..... 131 

Father and Uncle ........ 133 

Hamlet and Ophelia 135 

Hamlet and the Players . . . . . . .139 

The Mad Ophelia 147 

Laertes and the King . . . . . . .149 

Death of Hamlet ....... 151 

Lysander and Hermia . . . . . . .155 

Puck Finds the Little Purple Flower ..... 157 

Oberon and Titania . . . . . . . .161 

Lysander and Helena 163 

The Enamored Queen • . . . . . .169 

Puck and the Fairies . . . . . . . .171 

Prospero and his Enchanted Wand . . • . .175 

Caliban . . . . . . * • • .176 

Prospero and Miranda . . . . • • .177 

Abandoned to the Elements . . . . . .181 

“ What care these roarers for the name of King?” . . 183 

Ferdinand and Miranda . . . . . • .185 

Prospero and the King 191 


TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


KOMEO AND JDLIET. 


T HE two chief families in Verona were the rich Capu- 
lets and the Montagues. There had been an old 
quarrel between these families, which was grown to such 
a height, and so deadly was the enmity between them, 
that it extended to the remotest kindred, to the follow- 
ers and retainers of both sides, insomuch that a servant 
of the house of Montague could not meet a servant of 
the house of Capulet, nor a Capulet encounter with a 
Montague by chance, hut fierce words and sometimes 
bloodshed ensued; and frequent were the brawls from 
such accidental meetings, which disturbed the happy 
quiet of Verona’s estate. 

Old Lord Capulet made a great supper, to which 
many fair ladies and many noble guests were invited. 
All the admired beauties of Verona were present, and all 
comers were made welcome if they were not of the house 
of Montague. At this feast of Capulets, Rosaline, beloved 
of Romeo, son to the old Lord Montague, was present ; 
and though it was dangerous for a Montague to be seen 
in this assembly, yet Benvolio, a friend of Romeo, per- 
suaded the young lord to go to this assembly in the dis- 

1 


2 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


guise of a mask, that he might see his Rosaline, and 
seeing her, compare her with some choice beauties of Ve- 
rona, who (he said) would made him think his swan a 
crow. Romeo had small faith in Benvolio’s words ; nev- 
ertheless, for the love of Rosaline, he was persuaded to 
go. For Romeo was a sincere and passionate lover, and 
one that lost his sleep for love, and fled society to be 
alone, thinking on Rosaline, who disdained him, and never 
requited his love with the least show of courtesy or affec- 
tion ; and Benvolio wished to cure his friend of this love 
by showing him diversity of ladies and company. To this 
feast of Capulets then young Romeo with Benvolio and 
their friend Mercutio went masked. Old Capulet bid 
them welcome, and told them that ladies who had their 
toes unplagued with corns would dance with them. And 
the old man was light-hearted and merry, and said that 
he had worn a mask when he w T as young, and could have 
told a whispering tale in a fair lady’s ear. And they fell 
to dancing, and Romeo was suddenly struck with the ex- 
ceeding beauty of a lady that danced there, who seemed 
to him to teach the torches to burn bright, and her beauty 
to show by night like a rich jewel worn by a blackamoor : 
beauty too rich for use, too dear for earth ! like a snowy 
dove trooping with crows (he said), so richly did her 
beauty and perfections shine above the ladies her compan- 
ions. While he uttered these praises, he was overheard 
by Tybalt, a nephew of Lord Capulet, who knew him by 
his voice to be Romeo. And this Tybalt, being of a fiery 
and passionate temper, could not endure that a Montague 
should come under cover of a mask, to fleer and scorn 



THE RIVAL RETAINERS, 


8 







4 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


(as he said) at their solemnities. And he stormed and 
raged exceedingly, and would have struck young Romeo 
dead. But his uncle, the old Lord Capulet, would not suf- 
fer him to do any injury at that time, both out of respect 
to his guests, and because Romeo had borne himself like 
a gentleman, and all tongues in Verona bragged of him 
to be a virtuous and well-governed youth. Tybalt, forced 
to be patient against his will, restrained himself, but swore 
that this vile Montague should at another time dearly 
pay for his intrusion. 

The dancing being done, Romeo watched the place 
where the lady stood; and under favor of his masking 
habit, which might seem to excuse in part the liberty, 
he presumed in the gentlest manner to take her by the 
hand, calling it a shrine, which if he profaned by touching 
it, he was a blushing pilgrim, and would kiss it for atone- 
ment. “ Good pilgrim,” answered the lady, ‘ ‘ your devo- 
tion shows by far too mannerly and too courtly : saints 
have hands, which pilgrims may touch, but kiss not.” 
“Have not saints lips, and pilgrims too? ” said Romeo. 
“Ay,” said the lady, “lips which they must use in 
prayer.” “ Oh ! then, my dear saint,” said Romeo, “ hear 
my prayer and grant it, lest I despair.” In such like al- 
lusions and loving conceits they were engaged, when the 
lady was called away to her mother. And Romeo inquir- 
ing who her mother was, discovered that the lady whose 
peerless beauty he was so much struck with was young 
Juliet, daughter and heir to the Lord Capulet, the great 
enemy of the Montagues ; and that he had unknowingly 
engaged his heart to his foe. This troubled him^but it 



ROMEO. 


5 





6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


could not dissuade him from loving. As little rest had 
Juliet, when she found that the gentleman that she had 
been talking with was Romeo and a Montague, for she 
had been suddenly smit with the same hasty and in- 
considerate passion for Romeo which he had conceived 
for her ; and a prodigious birth of love it seemed to her, 
that she must love her enemy, and that her affections 
should settle there, where family considerations should 
induce her chiefly to hate. 

It being midnight, Romeo with his companions de- 
parted; but they soon missed him, for unable to stay 
away from the house where he had left his heart, he 
leaped the wall of an orchard which was at the back of 
Juliet’s house. Here he had not remained long, rumi- 
nating on his new love, when Juliet appeared above at a 
window, through which her exceeding beauty seemed to 
break like the light of the sun in the east ; and the moon, 
which shone in the orchard with a faint light, appeared 
to Romeo as if sick and pale with grief at the superior 
lustre of this new sun. And she leaning her hand upon 
her cheek, he passionately wished himself a glove upon 
that hand, that he might touch her cheek. She all this 
while thinking herself alone, fetched a deep sigh, and ex- 
claimed, “ Ah, me ! ” Romeo was enraptured to hear her 
speak, and said softly, unheard by her, “ Oh ! speak again, 
bright angel, for such you appear, being over my head, 
like a winged messenger from heaven whom mortals fall 
back to gaze upon.” She, unconscious of being overheard, 
and full of the new passion which that night’s adventure 
had given birth to, called upon her lover by name (whom 
she supposed absent) : “ O Romeo, Romeo ! ” said she, 


7 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

“ wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father, and refuse 
thy name, for my sake ; or if thou wilt not, be but my 
sworn love, and I no longer will be a Capulet.” Romeo, 
having this encouragement, would fain have spoken, but 
he was desirous of hearing more ; and the lady continued 
her passionate discourse with herself (as she thought), 
still chiding Romeo for being Romeo and a Montague, 
and wishing him some other name, or that he would put 
away the hated name, and for that name, which was no 
part of himself, he should take all herself. At this loving 
word Romeo could no longer refrain, but taking up the 
dialogue as if her words had been addressed to him per- 
sonally, and not merely in fancy, he bid her call him 
Love, or by whatever other name she pleased, for he was 
no longer Romeo, if that name was displeasing to her. 
Juliet, alarmed to hear a man’s voice in the garden, did 
not at first know who it was, that by favor of the night 
and darkness had thus stumbled upon the discovery of her 
secret ; but when he spoke again, though her ears had 
not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue’s uttering, 
yet so nice is a lover’s hearing, that she immediately 
knew him to be young Romeo, and she expostulated with 
him on the danger to which he had exposed himself by 
climbing the orchard walls, for if any of her kinsmen 
should find him there, it would be death to him, being a 
Montague. “ Alack,*’ said Romeo, “ there is more peril 
in your eye than in twenty of their swords. Do you but 
look kind upon me, lady, and I am proof against their 
enmity. Better my life should be ended by their hate, 
than that hated life should be prolonged, to live without 


8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


your love.” “ How came you into this place,” said Juliet, 
“ and by whose direction?” “ Love directed me,” an- 
swered Romeo : I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far apart 
from me as that vast shore which is washed with the far- 
thest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise.” 
A crimson blush ©«ime over the face of Juliet, yet unseen 
by Romeo by reason of the night, when she reflected upon 
the discovery which she had made, yet not meaning to 
make it, of her love to Romeo. She would fain have re- 
called her words, but that was impossible ; fain would she 
have stood upon form, and have kept her lover at a dis- 
tance, as the custom of discreet ladies is, to frown and be 
perverse, and give their suitors harsh denials at first ; 
to stand off, and affect a coyness or indifference, where 
they most love, that their lovers may not think them too 
lightly or too easily won : for the difficulty of attainment 
increases the value of the object. But there was no room 
in her case for denials, or puttings off, or any of the cus- 
tomary arts of delay and protractive courtship. Romeo 
had heard from her own tongue, when she did not dream 
that he was near her, a confession of her love. So with 
an honest frankness, which the novelty of her situation 
excused, she confirmed the truth of what he had before 
heard, and addressing him by the name of fair Montague 
(love can sweeten a sour name), she begged him not to 
impute her easy yielding to levity or an unworthy mind, 
but that he must lay the fault of it (if it were a fault) 
upon the accident of the mind which had so strangely dis- 
covered her thoughts. And she added, that though her 
behavior to him might not be sufficiently prudent, meas- 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 9 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 


ured by the custom of her sex, yet that she would prove 
more true than many whose prudence was dissembling, 
and their modesty artificial cunning. 

9 


10 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Romeo was beginning to call the heavens to witness 
that nothing was farther from his thoughts than to im- 
pute a shadow of dishonor to such an honored lady, when 
she stopped him, begged him not to swear ; for although 
she joyed in him, yet she had no joy of that night’s con- 
tract ; it was too rash, too unadvised, too sudden. But 
he being urgent with her to exchange a vow of love with 
her that night, she said that she already had given him 
hers before he requested it ; meaning, when he overheard 
her confession ; but she would retract what she then be- 
stowed, for the pleasure of giving it again, for her bounty 
was as infinite as the sea, and her love as deep. From 
this loving conference she was called away by her nurse, 
who slept with her, and thought it time for her to be in 
bed, for it was near to daybreak ; but hastily returning, 
she said three or four words more to Romeo, the purport 
of which was, that if his love was indeed honorable, and 
his purpose marriage, she would send a messenger to him 
to-morrow, to appoint a time for their marriage, when she 
would lay all her fortunes at his feet, and follow him as 
her lord through the world. While they were settling 
this point, Juliet was repeatedly called for by her nurse, 
and went in and returned, and went and returned again, 
for she seemed as jealous of Romeo going from her as a 
young girl of her bird, which she will let hop a little from 
her hand, and pluck it back with a silken thread ; and 
Romeo was as loath to part as she : for the sweetest 
music to lovers is the sound of each other’s tongues at 
night. But at last they parted, wishing mutually sweet 
sleep and rest for that night. 


11 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

The day was breaking when they parted, and Romeo, 
who was too full of thoughts of his mistress and that 
blessed meeting to allow him to sleep, instead of going 
home, bent his course to a monastery hard by, to find 
Friar Lawrence. The good friar was already up at his 
devotions, but seeing young Romeo abroad so early, he 
conjectured rightly that he had not been abed that night, 
but that some distemper of youthful affection had kept 
him waking. He was right in imputing the cause of 
Romeo’s wakefulness to love, but he made a wrong guess 
at the object, for he thought that his love for Rosaline 
had kept him waking. But when Romeo revealed his 
new passion for Juliet, and requested the assistance of 
the friar to marry them that day, the holy man lifted up 
his eyes and hands in a sort of wonder at the sudden 
change in Romeo’s affections, for he had been privy to 
all Romeo’s love for Rosaline, and his many complaints of 
her disdain ; and he said that young men’s love lay not 
truly in their hearts but in their eyes. But Romeo replying 
that he himself had often chidden him for doting on Rosa- 
line, who could not love him again, whereas Juliet both 
loved and was beloved by him, the friar assented in some 
measure to his reasons ; and thinking that a matrimonial 
alliance between young Juliet and Romeo might happily 
be the means of making up the long breach between the 
Capulets and the Montagues, which no one more lamented 
than this good friar, who was a friend to both the families, 
and had often interposed his mediation to make up the 
quarrel without effect, partly moved by policy, and partly 
,by his fondness for young Romeo, to whom he could deny 


12 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


nothing, the old man consented to join their hands in 
marriage. 

Now was Romeo blessed indeed, and Juliet, who knew 
his intent from a messenger which she had despatched ac- 
cording to promise, did not fail to be early at the cell of 
Friar Lawrence, where their hands were joined in holy 
marriage; the good friar praying the heavens to smile 
upon that act, and in the union of this young Montague 
and young Capulet to bury the old strife and long dissen- 
sions of their families. 

The ceremony being over, Juliet hastened home, where 
she stayed impatient for the coming of night, at which 
time Romeo promised to come and meet her in the orchard 
where the3 r had met the night before ; and the time be- 
tween seemed as tedious to her as the night before some 
great festival seems to ah impatient child that has got 
new finery which it may not put on till the morning. 

That same day about noon, Romeo’s friends, Benvolio 
and Mercutio, walking through the streets of Verona, 
were met by a party of the Capulets with the impetuous 
Tybalt at their head. This was the same angry Tybalt 
who would have fought with Romeo at old Lord Capulet’s 
feast. He seeing Mercutio, accused him bluntly of asso- 
ciating with Romeo, a Montague. Mercutio, who had as 
much fire and youthful blood in him as Tybalt, replied to 
this accusation with some sharpness ; and in spite of all 
Benvolio could say to moderate their wrath, a quarrel 
was beginning, when Romeo himself passing that way, 
the fierce Tybalt turned from Mercutio to Romeo, and 
gave him the disgraceful appellation of villain. Romeo 


13 



FRIAR LAWRENCE MARRIES THE LOVERS. 

and gentle, and the name of a Capulet, which was his dear 
lady’s name, was now rather a charm to allay resentment 
than a watchword to excite fury. So he tried to reason 
with Tybalt, whom he saluted mildly by the name of 
good Capulet, as if he, though a Montague, had some 
secret pleasure in uttering that name ; but Tybalt, who 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 


wished to avoid a quarrel with Tybalt above all men, be- 
cause he w r as the kinsman of Juliet, and much beloved by 
her ; besides, this young Montague had never thoroughly 
entered into the family quarrel, being by nature wise 


14 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


hated all Montagues as he hated hell, would hear no 
reason, but drew his weapon ; and Mercutio, who knew 
not of Romeo’s secret motive for desiring peace with Ty- 
balt, but looked upon his present forbearance as a sort 
of calm dishonorable submission, with many disdainful 
words provoked Tybalt to the prosecution of his first 
quarrel with him ; and Tybalt and Mercutio fought, till 
Mercutio fell, receiving his death’s wound while Romeo 
and Benvolio were vainly endeavoring to part the com- 
batants. Mercutio being dead, Romeo kept his temper 
no longer, but returned the scornful appellation of villain 
which Tybalt had given him ; and they fought till Tybalt 
was slain by Romeo. This deadly broil falling out in the 
midst of Yerona at noonday, the news of it quickly brought 
out a crowd of citizens to the spot, and among them the 
old Lords Capulet and Montague, with their wives ; and 
soon after arrived the prince himself, who being related 
to Mercutio, whom Tybalt had slain, and having had the 
peace of his government often disturbed by these brawls 
of Montagues and Capulets, came determined to put the 
law in strictest force against those who should be found to 
be offenders. Benvolio, who had been eyewitness to the 
fray, was commanded by the prince to relate the origin 
of it, which he did, keeping as near to the truth as he could 
without injury to Romeo, softening and excusing the part 
which his friends took in it. Lady Capulet, whose extreme 
grief for the loss of her kinsman Tybalt made her keep no 
bounds in her revenge, exhorted the prince to do strict 
justice upon his murderer, and to pay no attention to Ben- 
volio’s representation, who being Romeo’s friend, and a 
Montague, spoke partially. Thus she pleaded against her 


15 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

new son-in-law, but she knew not yet that he was her son- 
in-law and Juliet’s husband. On the other hand was to 
be seen Lady Montague pleading for her child’s life, and 
arguing with some justice that Romeo had done nothing 
worthy of punishment in taking the life of Tybalt, which 
was already forfeited to the law by his having slain 
Mercutio. The prince, unmoved by the passionate ex- 
clamations of these women, on a careful examination of 
the facts, pronounced his sentence, and by that sentence 
Romeo was banished from Verona. 

Heavy news to young Juliet, who had been but a few 
hours a bride, and now by this decree seemed everlastingly 
divorced! When the tidings reached her, she at first 
gave way to rage against Romeo, who had slain her dear 
cousin : she called him a beautiful tyrant, a fiend angeli- 
cal, a ravenous dove, a lamb with a wolf’s nature, a 
serpent-heart hid with a flowering face, and other like 
contradictory names, which denoted the struggles in her 
mind between her love and her resentment : but in the end 
love got the mastery, and the tears which she shed for 
grief that Romeo had slain her cousin turned to drops of 
joy that her husband lived whom Tybalt would have 
slain. Then came fresh tears, and they were altogether 
of grief for Romeo’s banishment. That word was more 
terrible to her than the death of many Tybalts. 

Romeo, after the fray, had taken refuge in Friar Law- 
rence’s cell, where he was first made acquainted with the 
prince’s sentence, which seemed to him far more terrible 
than death. To him it appeared there was no world out 
of Verona’s walls, no living out of the sight of Juliet. 
Heaven was there where J uliet lived, and all beyond was 


16 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


purgatory, torture, hell. The good friar would have ap- 
plied the consolation of philosophy to his griefs ; but this 
frantic young man would hear of none, but like a mad- 
man he tore his hair, and threw himself all along upon 
the ground, as he said, to take the measure of his grave. 
From this unseemly state he was roused by a message 
from his dear lady, which a little revived him, and then 
the friar took the advantage to expostulate with him on 
the unmanly weakness which he had shown. He had slain 
Tybalt, but would he also slay himself, slay his dear lady 
who lived but in his life? The noble form of man, he 
said, was but a shape of wax, when it wanted the courage 
which should keep it firm. The law had been lenient to 
him, that instead of death, which he had incurred, had 
pronounced by the prince’s mouth only banishment. He 
had slain Tybalt, but Tybalt would have slain him : there 
was a sort of happiness in that. Juliet was alive, and (be- 
yond all hope) had become his dear wife, therein he was 
most happy. All these blessings, as the friar made them 
out to be, did Romeo put from him like a sullen misbe- 
haved wench. And the friar bid him beware, for such 
as despaired (he said) died miserable. Then when Romeo 
was a little calmed, he counselled him that he should go 
that night and secretly take his leave of Juliet, and thence 
proceed straightways to Mantua, at which place he should 
sojourn, till the friar found a fit occasion to publish his 
marriage, which might be a joyful means of reconciling 
their families ; and then he did not doubt but the prince 
would be moved to pardon him, and he would return with 
twenty times more joy than he went forth with grief. 
Romeo was convinced by these wise counsels of the friar, 


17 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

and took his leave to go and seek his lad} 7- , purposing* 
to stay with her that night, and by daybreak pursue his 
journey alone to Mantua ; to which place the good friar 
promised to send him letters from time to time, acquaint- 
ing him with the state of affairs at home. 

That night Romeo passed with his dear wife, gaining 
secret admission to her chamber from the orchard in which 
he had heard her confession of love the night before. That 
had been a night of unmixed joy and rapture; but the 
pleasures of this night, and the delight which these lovers 
took in each other’s society, were sadly allayed with the 
prospect of parting, and the fatal adventures of the past 
day. The unwelcome daybreak seemed to come too soon, 
and when Juliet heard the morning song of the lark, she 
would fain have persuaded herself that it was the night- 
ingale, which sings by night; but it was too truly the 
lark which sang, and a discordant and un pleasing note it 
seemed to her; and the streaks of day in the east too 
certainly pointed out that it was time for these lovers to 
part. Romeo took his leave of his dear wife with a heavy 
heart, promising to write to her from Mantua every hour 
in the day, and when he had descended from her chamber- 
window, as he stood below her on the ground, in that sad 
foreboding state of mind in which she was, he appeared 
to her eyes as one dead in the bottom of a tomb. Romeo’s 
mind misgave him in like manner; but now he was forced 
hastily to depart, for it was death to him to be found 
within the walls of Verona after daybreak. 

This was but the beginning of the tragedy of this pair 
of star-crossed lovers. Romeo had not been gone many 
days, before the old Lord Capulet proposed a match for 


18 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Juliet. The husband he had chosen for her, not dream- 
ing that she was married already, was Count Paris, a 
gallant, young and noble gentleman, no unworthy suitor 
to the young Juliet if she had never seen Romeo. 

The terrified Juliet was in a sad perplexity at her 
father’s offer. She pleaded her youth unsuitable to mar- 
riage, the recent death of Tybalt, which had left her spirits 
too weak to meet a husband with any face of joy, and how 
indecorous it would show for the family of the Capulets 
to be celebrating a nuptial feast, when his funeral solem- 
nities were hardly over : she pleaded every reason against 
the match but the true one, namely, that she was married 
alread}'. But Lord Capulet was deaf to all her excuses, 
and in a peremptory manner ordered her to get ready, for 
by the following Thursday she should be married to 
Paris : and having found her a husband rich, young, and 
noble, such as the proudest maid in Verona might joyfully 
accept, he could not bear that out of an affected coyness, 
as he construed her denial, she should oppose obstacles to 
her own good fortune. 

In this extremity Juliet applied to the friendly friar, 
always her counsellor in distress, and he asking her if she 
had resolution to undertake a desperate remedy, and she 
answering that she would go into the grave alive, rather 
than marry Paris, her own dear husband living, he 
directed her to go home, and appear merry, and give her 
consent to marry Paris, according to her father’s desire, 
and on the next night, which was the night before the 
marriage, to drink off the contents of a phial which he 
then gave her, the effect of which would be, that for 
two-and-forty hours after drinking it she should appear 


19 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

cold and lifeless; that when the bridegroom came to fetch 
her in the morning, he would find her to appearance dead ; 
that then she should he borne, as the manner in that 
country was, uncovered, on a bier, to be buried in the 
family vault ; that if she could put off womanish fear, and 
consent to this terrible trial, in forty-two hours after 
swallowing the liquid (such was its certain operation) she 
would be sure to awake, as from a dream ; and before she 
should awake, he would let her husband know their drift, 
and he should come in the night, and bear her thence to 
Mantua. Love, and the dread of marrying Paris, gave 
young Juliet strength to undertake this horrible advent- 
ure; and she took the phial of the friar, promising to 
observe his directions. 

Going from the monastery, she met the young Count 
Paris, and modestly dissembling, promised to become his 
bride. This was joyful news to the Lord Capulet and his 
wife. It seemed to put youth into the old man ; and Juliet, 
who had displeased him exceedingly by her refusal of the 
count, was his darling again, now she promised to be 
obedient. All things in the house were in a bustle against 
the approaching nuptials. No cost was spared to prepare 
such festival rejoicings as Verona had never before wit- 
nessed. 

On the Wednesday night Juliet drank off the potion. 
She had many misgivings, lest the friar, to avoid the 
blame which might be imputed to him for marrying her 
to Romeo, had given her poison ; but then he was always 
known for a holy man : then lest she should awake before 
the time that Romeo was to come for her ; whether the 
terror of the place, a vault full of dead Capulets’ bones, 


20 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


and where Tybalt, all bloody, lay festering- in his shroud, 
would not be enough to drive her distracted : again she 
thought of all the stories she had heard of spirits haunt- 
ing the places where their bodies were bestowed. But then 
her love for Romeo, and her aversion for Paris, returned, 
and she desperately swallowed the draught, and became 
insensible. 

When young Paris came early in the morning with 
music, to awaken his bride, instead of a living Juliet, 
her chamber presented the dreary spectacle of a lifeless 
corse. What death to his hopes! What confusion then 
reigned through the whole house ! Poor Paris lamenting 
his bride, whom most detestable death had beguiled him 
of, had divorced from him even before their hands were 
joined. But still more piteous it was to hear the mourn- 
ings of the old Lord and Lady Capulet, who having but 
this one, one poor loving child to rejoice and solace in, cruel 
death had snatched her from their sight, just as these 
careful parents were on the point of seeing her advanced 
(as they thought) by a promising and advantageous match. 
Now all things that were ordained for the festival were 
turned from their properties to do the office of a black 
funeral. The wedding cheer served for a sad burial feast, 
the bridal hymns were changed to sullen dirges, the 
sprightly instruments to melancholy bells, and the flowers 
that should have been strewed in the bride’s path now 
served but to strew her corse. Now instead of a priest to 
marry her, a priest was needed to bury her ; and she was 
borne to church indeed not to augment the cheerful hopes 
of the living, but to swell the dreary numbers of the dead. 



JULIET’S FEIGNED DEATH 


21 


22 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Bad news, which always travels faster than good, now 
brought the dismal story of his Juliet’s death to Romeo 
at Mantua, before the messenger could arrive who was 
sent from Friar Lawrence to apprise him that these were 
mock funerals only, and but the shadow and representa- 
tion of death, and that his dear lady lay in the tomb 
but for a short while, expecting when Romeo should come 
to release her from that dreary mansion. Just before, 
Romeo had been unusually joyful and light-hearted. He 
had dreamed in the night that he was dead (a strange 
dream, that gave a dead man leave to think), and that 
his lady came and found him dead, and breathed such life 
with kisses in his lips, that he revived, and was an emper- 
or ! And now that a messenger came from Yerona, he 
thought surely it was to confirm some good news which 
his dreams had presaged. But when the contrary to this 
flattering vision appeared, and that it was his lady who 
was dead in truth, whom he could not revive by any kisses, 
he ordered horses to be got ready, for he determined that 
night to visit Y erona, and to see his lady in her tomb. And 
as mischief is swift to enter into the thoughts of desperate 
men, he called to mind a poor apothecary, whose shop 
in Mantua he had lately passed, and from the beggarly 
appearance of the man who seemed famished, and the 
wretched show in his shop of empty boxes ranged on 
dirty shelves, and other tokens of extreme wretchedness, 
he had said at the time (perhaps having some misgivings 
that his own disastrous life might haply meet with a con- 
clusion so desperate), “If a man were to need poison, 
which by the law of Mantua it is death to sell, here lives 
a poor wretch who would sell it him.” These words of 




24 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


his now came into his mind, and he sought out the apothe- 
cary, who, after some pretended scruples, Romeo offer- 
ing him gold which his poverty could not resist, sold him 
a poison, which, if he swallowed, he told him, if he had 
the strength of twenty men, would quickly despatch him. 

With this poison he set out for Yerona, to have a sight 
cf his dear lady in her tomb, meaning when he had satis- 
fied his sight, to swallow the poison, and be buried by 
her side. He reached Verona at midnight, and found the 
churchyard in the midst of which was situated the ancient 
tomb of the Capulets. He had provided a light, and a 
spade, and wrenching iron, and was proceeding to break 
open the monument, when he was interrupted by a voice, 
which by the name of vile Montague , bade him desist from 
his unlawful business. It was the young Count Paris, 
who had come to the tomb of Juliet at that unseasonable 
time of night, to strew flowers, and to weep over the 
grave of her that should have been his bride. He knew 
not what an interest Romeo had in the dead, but knowing 
him to be a Montague, and (as he supposed) a sworn foe 
to all the Capulets, he judged that he was come by night 
to do some villanous shame to the dead bodies; therefore 
in angry tone he bade him desist; and as a criminal, 
condemned by the laws of Yerona to die if he were found 
within the walls of the city, he would have apprehended 
him. Romeo urged Paris to leave him, and warned him 
by the fate of Tybalt, who lay buried there, not to provoke 
his anger, or draw down another sin upon his head, by 
forcing him to kill him. But the count in scorn refused 
his warning, and laid hands on him as a felon, which 
Romeo resisting, they fought, and Paris fell. When 


25 


ROMEO AND JULIET. 

Romeo, by the help of a light, came to see who it was 
that he had slain, that it was Paris, who (he learned in 
his way from Mantua) should have married Juliet, he took 
the dead youth by the hand, as one whom misfortune had 
made a companion, and said that he would bury him in a 
triumphal grave, meaning in Juliet’s grave, which he now 
opened: and there lay his lady, as one whom death had no 
power upon to change a feature or complexion in her 
matchless beauty, or as if Death were amorous, and the 
lean abhorred monster kept her there for his delight ; for 
she lay yet fresh and blooming, as she had fallen to sleep 
when she swallowed that benumbing potion : and near 
her lay Tybalt in his bloody shroud, whom Romeo seeing, 
begged pardon of his lifeless corse, and for Juliet’s sake 
called him cousin , and said that he was about to do him a 
favor by putting his enemy to death. Here Romeo took 
his last leave of his lady’s lips, kissing them ; and here 
he shook the burden of his cross stars from his weary 
body, swallowing that poison which the apothecary had 
sold him, whose operation was fatal and real, not like 
that dissembling potion which Juliet had swallowed, the 
effect of which was now nearly expiring, and she about to 
awake to complain that Romeo had not kept his time, or 
that he had come too soon. 

For now the hour was arrived at which the friar had 
promised that she should awake ; and he, having learned 
that nis letters which he had sent to Mantua, by some 
unlucKy detention of the messenger, had never reached 
Romeo, came himself, provided with a pickaxe and lantern, 
to deliver the lady from her confinement ; but he was sur- 
prised to find a light already burning in the Capulets’ 


26 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


monument, and to see swords and blood near it, and 
Romeo and Paris lying* breathless by the monument. 

Before he could entertain a conjecture, to imagine how 
these fatal accidents had fallen out, Juliet awoke out of 
her trance, and seeing the friar near her, she remembered 
the place where she was, and the occasion of her being 
there, and asked for Romeo ; but the friar, hearing a 
noise, bade her come out of that place of death, and of 
unnatural sleep, for greater power than the}** could con- 
tradict had thwarted their intents ; and being frighted 
by the noise of people coming, he fled ; but when J uliet saw 
the cup closed in her true love’s hands, she guessed that 
poison had been the cause of his end, and she would have 
swallowed the dregs if any had been left, and she kissed 
his still warm lips to try if any poison yet did hang upon 
them : then hearing a nearer noise of people coming, she 
quickly unsheathed a dagger which she wore, and stab- 
bing herself, died by her true Romeo’s side. 

The watch by this time had come up to the place. 
A page belonging to Count Paris, who had witnessed the 
fight between his master and Romeo, had given the alarm, 
which had spread among the citizens, who went up and 
down the streets of Verona confusedly, exclaiming, “A 
Paris, a Romeo, a Juliet,” as the rumor had imperfectly 
reached them, till the uproar brought Lord Montague 
and Lord Capulet out of their beds, with the prince, to 
inquire into the cause of the disturbance. The friar had 
been apprehended by some of the watch, coming from the 
churchyard, trembling, sighing, and weeping, in a suspi- 
cious manner. A great multitude being assembled at 
the Capulets’ monument, the friar was demanded by the 











• ••if,' I 


27 


ROMEO’S DEATH 





















28 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


prince to deliver what he knew of these strange and dis- 
astrous accidents. 

And there, in the presence of the old Lords Montague 
and Capulet, he faithfully related the story of their chil- 
dren’s fatal love, the part he took in promoting their 
marriage, in the hope in that union to end the long 
quarrels between their families : how Romeo, there dead, 
was husband to Juliet; and Juliet, there dead, was 
Romeo’s faithful wife : how before he could find a fit op- 
portunity to divulge their marriage, another match was 
projected for Juliet, who to avoid the crime of a second 
marriage swallowed the sleeping draught (as he advised), 
and all thought her dead : how meantime he wrote to 
Romeo, to come and take her thence when the force of 
fhe potion should cease, and by what unfortunate mis- 
carriage of the messenger the letters never reached 
Romeo. Further than this the friar could not follow the 
story, nor knew more than that, coming himself to deliver 
Juliet from that place of death, he found the Count Paris 
and Romeo slain. The remainder of the transactions was 
supplied by the narration of the page who had seen Paris 
land Romeo fight, and by the servant who came with 
Romeo from Verona, to whom this faithful lover had given 
letters to be delivered to his father in the event of his 
death, which made good the friar’s words, confessing 
his marriage with Juliet, imploring the forgiveness of his 
parents, acknowledging the buying of the poison of the 
poor apothecary, and his intent in coming to the monu- 
ment, to die, and lie with Juliet. All these circumstances 
agreed together to clear the friar from any hand he 


29 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 

could be supposed to have had in these complicated 
slaughters, further than as the unintended consequences 
of his own well-meant, yet too artificial and subtle con- 
trivances. 


JULIET’S DEATH. 

And the prince, turning to these old lords, Montague 
and Capulet, rebuked them for their brutal and irrational 
enmities, and showed them what a scourge Heaven had 


30 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


laid upon such offences, that it had found means even 
through the love of their children to punish their unnat- 
ural hate. And these old rivals, no longer enemies, 
agreed to bury their long strife in their children’s graves ; 
and Lord Capulet requested Lord Montague to give him 
his hand, calling him by the name of brother, as if in 
acknowledgment of the union of their families by the mar- 
riage of the young Capulet and Montague; and saying 
that Lord Montague’s hand (in token of reconcilement) 
was all he demanded for his daughter’s jointure : but Lord 
Montague said he would give him more, for he Would 
raise her a statue of pure gold, that while Verona kept its 
name, no figure should be so esteemed for its richness and 
workmanship as that of the true and faithful Juliet. And 
Lord Capulet in return said that he would raise another 
statue to Romeo. So did these poor old lords, when it 
was too late, strive to outdo each other in mutual courte- 
sies : while so deadly had been their rage and enmity in 
past times, that nothing but the fearful overthrow of their 
children (poor sacrifices to their quarrels and dissensions) 
could remove the rooted hates and jealousies of the noble 
families. 


KING LEAR. 



EAR, king of Britain, had three daughters : Gon 


JLJ eril, wife to the duke of Albany; Regan, wife to 
the duke of Cornwall ; and Cordelia, a young maid, for 
whose love the king of France and the duke of Burgundy 
were joint suitors, and were at this time making stay for 
that purpose in the court of Lear. 

The old king, worn out with age and the fatigues of 
government, he being more than fourscore years old, de- 
termined to take no further part in state affairs, but to 
leave the management to younger strengths, that he 
might have time to prepare for death, which must at no 
long period ensue. With this intent he called his three 
daughters to him, to know from their own lips which of 
them loved him best, that he might part his kingdom 
among them in such proportions as their affection for him 
should seem to deserve. 

Goneril, the eldest, declared that she loved her father 
more than words could give out, that he was dearer to her 
than the light of her own eyes, dearer than life and liberty, 
with a deal of such professing stuff, which is easy to 
counterfeit where there is no real love, only a few fine 
words delivered with confidence being wanted in that 
case. The king, delighted to hear from her own mouth 
this assurance of her love, and thinking that truly her 
heart went with it, in a fit of fatherly fondness bestowed 
upon her and her husband one-third of his ample kingdom. 


31 


32 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Then calling to him his second daughter, he demanded 
what she had to say. Regan, who was made of the same 
hollow metal as her sister, was not a whit behind in her 
professions, but rather declared that what her sister had 
spoken came short of the love which she professed to bear 
for his highness : insomuch that she found all other joys 
dead, in comparison with the pleasure which she took in 
the love of her dear king and father. 

Lear blessed himself in having such loving children, as 
he thought : and could do no less, after the handsome 
assurances which Regan had made, than bestow a Third 
of his kingdom upon her and her husband, equal in size to 
that which he had already given away to Goner il. 

Then turning to his youngest daughter, Cordelia, 
whom he called his joy, he asked what she had to say ; 
thinking, no doubt, that she would glad his ears with the 
same loving speeches which her sisters had uttered, or 
rather that her expressions would be so much stronger 
than theirs, as she had always been his darling, and 
favored by him above either of them. But Cordelia, dis- 
gusted with the flattery of her sisters, whose hearts she 
knew were far from their lips, and seeing that all their 
coaxing speeches were only intended to wheedle the old 
king out of his dominions, that they and their husbands 
might reign in his lifetime, made no other reply but this, 
that she loved his majesty according to her duty, neither 
more nor less. 

The king, shocked with this appearance of ingratitude 
in his favorite child, desired her to consider her words, 
and to mend her speech, lest it should mar her fortunes. 

Cordelia then told her father that he was her father, 



COBDELIA AND KING LEAK. 


33 



34 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


that he had given her breeding, and love, that she re- 
turned those duties back as was for her most fit, and did 
obey him, love him, and most honor him. But that she 
could not frame her mouth to such large speeches as her 
sisters had done, or promise to love nothing else in the 
world. Why had her sisters husbands, if (as they said) 
they had no love for anything but their father ? If she 
should ever wed, she was sure the lord to whom she gave 
her hand would want half her love, half of her care and 
duty ; she should never marry like her sisters, to love her 
father all. 

Cordelia, who in earnest loved her old father even 
almost as extravagantly as her sisters pretended to do, 
would have plainty told him so at any other time, in more 
daughter-like and loving terms, and without these quali- 
fications, which did indeed sound a little ungracious : but 
after the crafty, flattering speeches of her sisters, which 
she had seen draw such extravagant rewards, she thought 
the handsomest thing she could do was to love and be 
silent. This put her affection out of suspicion of mer- 
cenary ends, and showed that she loved, but not for gain ; 
and that her professions, the less ostentatious they were, 
had so much the more of truth and sincerity than her 
sisters’. 

This plainness of speech, which Lear called pride, so 
enraged the old monarch — who in his best of times always 
showed much of spleen and rashness, and in whom the 
dotage incident to old age had so clouded over his reason 
that he could not discern truth from flattery, nor a gay 
painted speech from words that came from the heart — 
that in a fury of resentment he retracted the third part of 


KING LEAR. 


35 


his kingdom which yet remained, and which he had re- 
served for Cordelia, and gave it away from her, sharing 
it equally between her two sisters and their husbands, the 
dukes of Albany and Cornwall : whom he now called to 
him, and in presence of all his courtiers, bestowing a coro- 
net between them, invested them jointly with all the power, 
revenue, and execution of government, only retaining to 
himself the name of king ; all the rest of royalty he re- 
signed : with this reservation, that himself, with a hun- 
dred knights for his attendants, was to be maintained by 
monthly course in each of his daughters’ palaces in turn. 

So preposterous a disposal of his kingdom, so little 
guided by reason, and so much by passion, filled all his 
courtiers with astonishment and sorrow ; but none of them 
had the courage to interpose between this Incensed king 
and his wrath, except the earl of Kent, who was begin- 
ning to speak a good word for Cordelia, when the pas- 
sionate Lear on pain of death commanded him to desist : 
but the good Kent was not so to be repelled. He had been 
ever loyal to Lear, whom he had honored as a king, loved 
as a father, followed as a master : and had never esteemed 
his life further than as a pawn to wage against his royal 
master’s enemies, nor feared to lose it when Lear’s safety 
w r as the motive : nor now that Lear was most his own 
enemy, did this faithful servant of the king forget his old 
principles, but manfully opposed Lear, to do Lear good ; 
and was unmannerly only because Lear was mad. He 
had been a most faithful counsellor, in times past, to the 
king, and he besought him now, that he would see with 
his eyes (as he had done in many weighty matters) and go 


30 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


by his advice still; and in his best consideration recall 
this hideous rashness : for he would answer with his life, 
his judgment that Lear’s youngest daughter did not love 
him least, nor were those empty -hearted whose low sound 
gave no token of hollowness. When power bowed to 
flattery, honor was bound to plainness. For Lear’s 
threats, what could he do to him, whose life was already 
at his service ? That should not hinder duty from 
speaking. 

The honest freedom of this good earl of Kent only 
stirred up the king’s wrath the more, and like a frantic 
patient who kills his physician, and loves his mortal 
disease, he banished this true servant, and allotted him 
but five days to make his preparations for departure ; but 
if on the sixth his hated person was found within the 
realm of Britain, that moment was to be his death. And 
Kent bade farew r ell to the king, and said, that since he 
chose to show himself in such fashion, it was but banish- 
ment to stay there; and before he went, he recommended 
Cordelia to the protection of the gods, the maid who had 
so rightly thought, and so discreetly spoken ; and only 
wished that her sisters’ large speeches might be answered 
with deeds of love ; and then he went, as he said, to shape 
his old course to a new country. 

The king of France and duke of Burgundy were now 
called in to hear the determination of Lear about his 
youngest daughter, and to know whether they would per- 
sist in their courtship to Cordelia, now that she was under 
her father’s displeasure, and had no fortune but her own 
person to recommend her ; and the duke of Burgundy de- 
clined the match, and would not take her to wife upon 



CORDELIA’S FAREWELL TO HER SISTERS^ 


37 


38 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


such conditions ; but the king of France, understanding 
what the nature of the fault had been which had lost her 
the love of her father, that it was only a tardiness of 
speech, and the not being able to frame her tongue to 
flattery like her sisters, took this young maid by the 
hand, and saying that her virtues were a dowry above a 
kingdom, bade Cordelia to take farewell of her sisters, and 
of her father, though he had been unkind ; and she should 
go with him, and be queen of him and of fair France, and 
reign over fairer possessions than her sisters : and he 
called the duke of Burgundy in contempt a waterish duke, 
because his love for this young maid had in a moment run 
all away like water. 

Then Cordelia with weeping eyes took leave of her sis- 
ters, and besought them to love their father well, and 
make good their professions ; and they sullenly told her 
not to prescribe to them, for they knew their duty ; but 
to strive to content her husband, who had taken her (as 
they tauntingly expressed it) as Fortune’s alms. And 
Cordelia with a heavy heart departed, for she knew the 
cunning of her sisters, and she wished her father in better 
< hands than she was about to leave him in. 

Cordelia was no sooner gone than the devilish disposi- 
tions of her sisters began to show themselves in their true 
colors. Even before the expiration of the first month, 
which Lear was to spend by agreement with his eldest 
daughter Goneril, the old king began to find out the dif- 
ference between promises and performances. This wretch 
having got from her father all that he had to bestow, even 
to the giving away of the crown from off his head, began 
to grudge even those small remnants of royalty which the 


KING LEAR. 


39 


old man had reserved to himself, to please his fancy with 
the idea of being still a king. She could not bear to see 
him and his hundred knights. Every time she met her 
father she put on a frowning countenance ; and when the 
old man wanted to speak with her, she would feign sickness, 
or anything, to be rid of the sight of him ; for it was plain 
that she esteemed his old age a useless burden, and his 
attendants an unnecessary expense; not only she herself 
slackened in her expressions of duty to the king, but by 
her example, and (it is to be feared) not without her pri- 
vate instructions, her very servants affected to treat him 
with neglect, and would either refuse to obey his orders, 
or still more contemptuously pretend not to hear them. 
Lear could not but perceive this alteration in the behavior 
of his daughter, but he shut his eyes against it as long as 
he could, as people commonly are unwilling to believe the 
unpleasant consequences which their own mistakes and 
obstinacy have brought upon them. 

True love and fidelity are no more to be estranged by 
ill , than falseness and hollow-heartedness can be con- 
ciliated by good usage. This eminently appears in the 
good earl of Kent, who, though banished by Lear, and his 
life made forfeit if he were found in Britain, chose to stay, 
and abide all consequences as long as there was a chance 
of his being useful to the king his master. See to what 
mean shifts and disguises poor loyalty is forced to submit 
sometimes ; yet it counts nothing base or unworthy, so as 
it can but do service where it owes an obligation. In the 
disguise of a serving-man, all his greatness and pomp laid 
aside, this good earl proffered his services to the king, 


40 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


who, not knowing* him to be Kent in that disguise, but 
pleased with a certain plainness, or rather bluntness in 
his answers, which the earl put on (so different from that 
smooth, oily flattery which he had so much reason to be 
sick of, having found the effects not answerable in his 
daughter), a bargain was quickly struck, and Lear took 
Kent into his service by the name of Caius, as he called 
himself, never suspecting him to be his once great favorite, 
the high and mighty earl of Kent. 

This Caius quickly found means to show his fidelity and 
love to his royal master; for Goneril’s steward that same 
day behaving in a disrespectful manner to Lear, and giv- 
ing him saucy looks and language, as no doubt he was 
secretly encouraged to do by his mistress, Caius not en- 
during to hear so open an affront put upon majesty, made 
no more ado but presently tripped up his heels, and laid 
the unmannerly slave in the kennel; for which friendly 
service Lear became more and more attached to him. 

Nor was Kent the only friend Lear had. In his degree, 
and so far as so insignificant a personage could show his 
love, the poor fool, or jester, that had been of his palace 
while Lear had a palace, as it was the custom of kings 
and great . personages at that time to keep a fool (as he 
was called) to make them sport after business : this poor 
fool clung to Lear after he had given away his crown, and 
by his witty sayings would keep up his good humor, 
though he could not refrain sometimes from jeering at his 
master, for his imprudence in uncrowning himself, and 
giving all away to his daughters : at which time, as he 
rhymingly expressed it, these daughters 



41 


KENT AND THE FOOL 









42 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


For sudden joy did weep, 

And he for sorrow sung, 

That such a king should play bo-peep, 

And go the fools among. 

And in such wild sayings, and scraps of songs, of 
which he had plenty, this pleasant, honest fool poured out 
his heart even in the presence of Goneril herself, in many 
a bitter taunt and jest which cut to the quick : such as 
comparing the king to the hedge sparrow, who feeds the 
young of the cuckoo till they grow old enough, and then 
has its head bit off for its pains : and saying, that an ass 
may know when the cart draws the horse (meaning that 
Lear’s daughters, that ought to go behind, now ranked 
before their father) ; and that Lear w r as no longer Lear, 
but the shadow of Lear ; for which free speeches he was 
once or twice threatened to be whipped. 

The coolness and falling off of respect which Lear had 
begun to perceive were not all which this foolish, fond 
father was to suffer from his unworthy daughter ; she 
now plainly told him that his staying in her palace was 
inconvenient so long as he insisted upon keeping up an 
establishment of a hundred knights : that this establish- 
ment was useless and expensive, and only served to fill 
her court with riot and f eastings ; and she prayed him 
that he would lessen their number, and keep none but old 
men about him, such as himself, and fitting his age. 

Lear at first could not believe his eyes or ears, nor 
that it was his daughter who spoke so unkindly. He 
could not believe that she who had received a crown from 


KING LEAR. 


43 


him couid seek to cut off his train, and grudge him the 
respect due to his old age. But she persisting in her 
undutiful demand, the old man’s rage was so excited, that 
he called her a detested kite, and said that she had spoke 
an untruth ; and so indeed she did, for the hundred 
knights were all men of choice behavior and sobriety of 
manners, men skilled in all particulars of duty, and not 
given to rioting and feasting as she said. And he bid his 
horses to be prepared, for he would go to his other 
daughter, Regan, he and his hundred knights : and he 
spoke of ingratitude, and said it was a marble-hearted 
devil, and showed more hideous in a child than the sea- 
monster. And he cursed his eldest daughter Goneril so 
as was terrible to hear; praying that she might never 
have a child, or if she had, that it might live to return 
that scorn and contempt upon her which she had shown 
to him : that she might feel how sharper than a serpent’s 
tooth it was to have a thankless child. And Goneril’s 
husband, the duke of Albany, beginning to excuse himself 
for any share which Lear might suppose he had in the 
unkindness, Lear would not hear him out, but in a rage 
ordered his horses to be saddled, and set out with his 
followers for the abode of Regan, his other daughter. 
And Lear thought to himself how small the fault of Cor- 
delia (if it was a fault) now appeared, in comparison 
with her sister’s, and he wept ; and then he was ashamed 
that such a creature as Goneril should have 60 much 
power over his manhood as to make him weep. 

Regan and her husband were keeping their court in 
great pomp and state at their palace : and Lear de- 
spatched his servant Caius with letters to his daughter, 


44 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


that she might be prepared for his reception, while he and 
his train followed after. But it seems that Goneril had 
been beforehand with him, sending letters also to Regan, 
accusing her father of waywardness and ill humors, and 
advising her not to receive so great a train as he was 
bringing with him. This messenger arrived at the same 
time with Caius, and Caius and he met : and who should 
it be but Caius’ old enemy the steward, whom he had 
formerly tripped up by the heels for his saucy behavior to 
Lear. Caius not liking the fellow’s look, and suspecting 
what he came for, began to revile him, and challenged him 
to fight, which the fellow refusing, Caius, in a fit of 
honest passion, beat him soundly, as such a mischief- 
maker and carrier of wicked messages deserved : which 
coming to the ears of Regan and her husband, they 
ordered Caius to be put in the stocks, though he was a 
messenger from the king her father, and in that char- 
acter demanded the highest respect : so that the first 
thing the king saw when he entered the castle was his 
faithful servant Caius sitting in that disgraceful situa- 
tion. 

This was but a bad omen of the reception which he was 
to expect, but a worse followed when upon inquiry for his 
daughter and her husband, he was told they were weary 
with travelling all night, and could not see him : and 
when lastly, upon his insisting in a positive and angry 
manner to see them, they came to greet him, whom 
should he see in their company but the hated Goneril, 
who had come to tell her own story, and set her sister 
against the king her father. 


KING LEAR. 


45 


This sight much moved the old man, and still more to 
see Regan take her by the hand ; and he asked Goneril if 
she was not ashamed to look upon his old white beard. 
And Regan advised him to go home again with Goneril 
and live with her peaceably, dismissing half of his attend- 
ants, and to ask her forgiveness ; for he was old and 
wanted discretion, and must be ruled and led by persons 
that had more discretion than himself. And Lear showed 
how preposterous that would sound, if he were to down 
on his knees and beg of his own daughter for food and 
raiment, and he argued against such an unnatural depend- 
ence, declaring his resolution never to return with her, 
but to stay w r here he was with Regan, he and his hundred 
knights : for he said that she had not forgot the half of the 
kingdom which he had endowed her with, and that her 
eyes were not fierce like Goneril’s, but mild and kind. 
And he said that rather than return to Goneril, with half 
his train cut off, he would go over to France, and get a 
wretched pension of the king there, who had married his 
youngest daughter without a portion. 

But he was mistaken in expecting kinder treatment of 
Regan than he had experienced from her sister Goneril. 
As if willing to outdo her sister in unfllial behavior, she 
declared that she thought fifty knights too many to wait 
upon him: that five-and*twenty were enough. Then Lear, 
nigh heart-broken, turned to Goneril, and said, that he 
would go back with her, for her fifty doubled five-and- 
twenty, and so her love was twice as much as Regan’s. 
But Goneril excused herself, and said, what need of so 
many as five-and -twenty ? or even ten ? or five ? when he 


46 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


might be waited upon by ner servants or her sister’s ser- 
vants ? So these two wicked daughters, as if they strove 
to exceed each other in cruelty to their old father who had 
been so good to them, by little and little would have 
abated him of all his train, all respect (little enough for 
him that once commanded a kingdom) which was left 
him to show that he had once been a king ! Not that a 
splendid train is essential to happiness, but from a king to 
a beggar is a hard change, from commanding millions to 
be without one attendant ; and it was the ingratitude in 
his daughters denying it, more than what he would suffer 
by the want of it, which pierced this poor old king to the 
heart : insomuch, that with this double ill usage, and vex- 
ation for having so foolishly given away a kingdom, his 
wits began to be unsettled, and while he said he knew not 
what, he vowed revenge against those unnatural hags, 
and to make examples of them that should be a terror to 
the earth ! 

While he was thus idly threatening what his weak arm 
could never execute, night came on, and a loud storm of 
thunder and lightning with rain ; and his daughters still 
persisting in their resolution not to admit his followers, he 
called for his horses, and chose rather to encounter the ut- 
most fury of the storm abroad, than stay under the same 
roof with these ungrateful daughters ; and they, saying 
that the injuries which wilful men procure to themselves 
are their just punishment, suffered him to go in that con- 
dition, and shut their doors upon him. 

The winds were high, and the rain and storm increased, 
when the old man sallied forth to combat with the ele- 




LEAK AND THE FOOL. 




48 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


merits, less sharp than his daughters’ unkindness. For 
many miles about there was scarce a bush; and there upon 
a heath, exposed to the fury of the storm in a dark night, 
did King Lear wander out, and defy the winds and the 
thunder : and he bid the winds to blow the earth into the 
sea, or swell the waves of the sea, till they drowned the 
earth, that no token might remain of any such ungrateful 
animal as man. The old king was now left with no other 
companion than the poor fool, who still abided with him, 
with his merry conceits striving to outjest misfortune, 
saying, it was but a naughty night to swim in, and truly 
the king had better go in and ask his daughters’ blessing: 

But he that has a little tiny wit, 

With heigh ho, the wind and the rain I 
Must make content with his fortunes fit, 

Though the rain it raineth every day : 

and swearing it was a brave night to cool a lady’s 
pride. 

Thus poorly accompanied, this once great monarch was 
found by his ever faithful servant the good earl of Kent, 
now transformed to Caius, who ever followed close at his 
side, though the king did not know him to be the earl ; and 
he said, “ Alas ! sir, are you here ? creatures that love 
night, love not such nights as these. This dreadful storm 
has driven the beasts to their hiding-places. Man's na- 
ture cannot endure the affliction or the fear.” And Lear 
rebuked him and said, these lesser evils were not felt, 
where a greater malady was fixed. When the mind is at 
ease, the body has leisure to be delicate ; but the tempest 
in his mind did take all feeling else from his senses, but of 


KING LEAR. 


49 


that which beat at his heart. And he spoke of filial in- 
gratitude, and said it was all one as if the mouth should 
tear the hand for lifting food to it ; for parents were hands 
and food and everything to children. 

But the good Caius still persisting in his entreaties that 
the king would not stay out in the open air, at last per- 
suaded him to enter a little wretched hovel which stood 
upon the heath, where the fool first entering, suddenly ran 
back terrified, saying that he had seen a spirit. But upon 
examination this spirit proved to be nothing more than a 
poor Bedlam beggar, who had crept into this deserted 
hovel for shelter, and with his talk about devils frighted 
the fool, one of those poor lunatics who are either mad, or 
feign to be so, the better to extort charity from the com- 
passionate country people, who go about the country call- 
ing themselves poor Tom and poor Turlygood, saying 
“ Who gives anything to poor Tom ? ” sticking pins and 
nails and sprigs of rosemary into their arms to make them 
bleed; and with such horrible actions, partly by prayers 
and partly with lunatic curses, they move or terrify the 
ignorant country folks into giving them alms. This poor 
fellow was such a one ; and the king seeing him in so 
wretched a plight, with nothing but a blanket about his 
loins to cover his nakedness, could not be persuaded but 
that the fellow was some father who had given all away 
to his daughters, and brought himself to that pass ; for 
nothing he thought could bring a man to such wretch- 
edness but the having unkind daughters. 

And from this and many such wild speeches which he 
uttered, the good Caius plainly perceived that he was not 
in his perfect mind, but that his daughters’ ill-usage had 


50 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


realty made him go mad. And now the loyalty of this 
worthy earl of Kent showed itself in more essential ser- 
vices than he had hitherto found opportunity to perform. 
For with the assistance of some of the king’s attendants 
who remained loj'al, he had the person of his royal master 
removed at daybreak to the castle of Dover, where his own 
friends and influence, as earl of Kent, chiefly lay; and him- 
self embarking for France, hastened to the court of Cor- 
delia, and did there in such moving terms represent the 
pitiful condition of her ro3 T al father, and set out in such 
lively colors the inhumanity of her sisters, that this good 
and loving child with many tears besought the king her 
husband, that he would give her leave to embark for Eng- 
land with a sufficient power to subdue these daughters 
and their husbands, and restore the king her father to his 
throne; which being granted, she set forth, and with a 
royal army landed at Dover. 

Lear, having by chance escaped from the guardians 
which the good earl of Kent had put over him to take care 
of him in his lunacy, was found by some of Cordelia’s 
train, wandering about the fields near Dover, in a pitiable 
condition, stark mad and singing aloud to himself, with a 
crown upon his head which he had made of straw and 
nettles and other wild weeds that he had picked up in the 
corn-fields. By the advice of the physicians, Cordelia, 
though earnestly desirous of seeing her father, was pre- 
vailed upon to put off the meeting, till, by sleep and the 
operation of herbs which they gave him, he should be re- 
stored to greater composure. By the aid of these skilful 
physicians, to whom Cordelia promised all her gold and 


KING LEAR. 51 

jewels for the recovery of the old king, Lear was soon in a 
condition to see his daughter. 

A tender sight it was to see the meeting between this 



THE MAD KING. 

father and daughter : to see the struggles between the joy 
of this poor old king at beholding again his once darling 


52 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


child, and the shame at receiving such filial kindness from 
her whom he had cast off for so small a fault in his dis- 
pleasure ; both these passions struggling with the remains 
of his malady, which in his half-crazed brain sometimes 
made him that he scarce remembered where he was, or 
who it was that so kindly kissed him and spoke to him : 
und then he would beg the standers-by not to laugh at 
him if he were mistaken in thinking this lady to be his 
daughter Cordelia ! And then to see him fall on his knees 
to beg pardon of his child ; and she, good lady, kneeling 
all the while to ask a blessing of him, and telling him that 
it did not become him to kneel, but it was her duty, for 
she was his child, his true and very child, Cordelia ! And 
she kissed him (as she said) to kiss away all her sisters’ 
unkindness, and said that they might be ashamed of 
themselves, to turn their old kind father with his white 
beard out into the cold air, when her enemy’s dog, though 
it had bit her (as she prettily expressed it), should have 
stayed by her fire such a night as that, and warmed him- 
self. And she told her father how she had come from 
France with purpose to bring him assistance ; and he said 
that she must forget and forgive, for he was old and fool- 
ish, and did not know what he did ; but that to be sure she 
had great cause not to love him, but her sisters had none. 
And Cordelia said that she had no cause, no more than 
they had. 

So we will leave this old king in the protection of this 
dutiful and loving child, where, by the help of sleep and 
medicine, she and her physicians at length succeeded in 
winding up the untuned and jarring senses which the 


J 



“ I MIGHT HAVE SAVED II EE l” 


53 













54 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


cruelty of his other daughters had so violently shaken. 
Let us return to say a word or two about those cruel 
daughters. 

These monsters of ingratitude, who had been so false 
to their own father, could not be expected to prove more 
faithful to their own husbands. They soon grew tired of 
paying even the appearance of duty and affection, and in 
an open way showed they had fixed their loves upon an- 
other. It happened the object of their guilty loves was 
the same. It was Edmund, a natural son of the late earl 
of Gloucester, who by his treacheries had succeeded in 
disinheriting his brother Edgar, the lawful heir, from his 
earldom, and by his wicked practices was now earl him- 
self : a wicked man and a fit object for the love of such 
wicked creatures as Goneril and Regan. It falling out 
about this time that the duke of Cornwall, Regan’s hus- 
band, died, Regan immediately declared her intention of 
wedding this earl of Gloucester, which rousing the jeal- 
ousy of her sister, to whom as well as to Regan this 
wicked earl had at sundry times professed love, Goneril 
found means to make away with her sister by poison : 
but being detected in her practices, and imprisoned by her 
husband the duke of Albany for this deed, and for her 
guilty passion for the earl which had come to his ears, 
she, in a fit of disappointed love and rage, shortly put an 
end to her own life. Thus the justice of Heaven at last 
overtook these wicked daughters. 

While the eyes of all men were upon this event, admir- 
ing the justice displayed in their deserved deaths, the 
same eyes were suddenly taken off from this sight to ad- 
mire at the mysterious ways of the same power in the 


KING LEAR. 


55 


melancholy fate of the young and virtuous daughter, the 
Lady Cordelia, whose good deeds did seem to deserve a 
more fortunate conclusion : but it is an awful truth, that 
innocence and piety are not always successful in this 
world. The forces which Goneril and Regan had sent out 
under the command of the bad earl of Gloucester were 
victorious, and Cordelia, by the practices of this wicked 
earl, who did not like that any should stand between him 
and the throne, ended her life in prison. Thus Heaven 
took this innocent lady to itself in her young years, after 
showing her to the world an illustrious example of filial 
duty. Lear did not long survive this kind child. 

Before he died, the good earl of Kent, who had still 
attended his old master’s steps from the first of his 
daughters’ ill usage to this sad period of his decay, tried 
to make him understand that it was he who had followed 
him under the name of Caius; but Lear’s care-crazed 
brain at that time could not comprehend how that could 
be, or how Kent and Caius could be the same person : so 
Kent thought it needless to trouble him with explanations 
at such a time ; and Lear soon after expiring, this faith- 
ful servant to the king, between age and grief for his old 
master’s vexations, soon followed him to the grave. 

How the judgment of Heaven overtook the bad earl of 
Gloucester, whose treasons were discovered, and himself 
slain in single combat with his brother the lawful earl ; 
and how Goneril’s husband, the duke of Albany, who was 
innocent of the death of Cordelia, and had never encour- 
aged his lady in her wicked proceedings against her father, 
ascended the throne of Britain after the death of Lear, is 
needless here to narrate. 


53 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


OTHELLO. 

B RABANTIO, the rich senator of Venice, had a fair 
daughter, the gentle Desdemona. She was sought 
to by divers suitors, both on account of her many virtuous 
qualities and for her rich expectations. But among the 
suitors of her own clime and complexion she saw none 
whom she could affect : for this noble lady, who regarded 
the mind more than the features of men, with a singu- 
larity rather to be admired than imitated, had chosen for 
the object of her affections a Moor, a black whom her 
father loved, and often invited to his house. 

Neither is Desdemona to be altogether condemned for 
the unsuitableness of the person whom she selected for her 
lover. Bating that Othello was black the noble Moor 
wanted nothing which might recommend him to the affec- 
tions of the greatest lady. He was a soldier, and a brave 
one ; and by his conduct in bloody wars against the Turks 
had risen to the rank of general in the Venetian service, 
and was esteemed and trusted by the state. 

He had been a traveller, and Desdemona (as is the 
manner of ladies) loved to hear him tell the story of his 
adventures, which he would run through from his earliest 
recollection ; the battles, sieges, and encounters which he 
had passed through ; the perils he had been exposed to by 
land and by water ; his hairbreadth escapes when he had 







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jggjg 


a'IvW; 


OTHELLO RELATING THE STORY OF HIS LIFE, 





58 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


entered a breach or marched up to the mouth of a cannon ; 
and how he had been taken prisoner by the insolent enemy 
and sold to slavery; how he demeaned himself in that 
state and how he escaped : all these accounts added to tlie- 
narration of the strange things he had seen in foreign 
countries, the vast wildernesses and romantic caverns, the 
quarries, the rocks and mountains, whose heads are in the 
clouds ; of the savage nations ; the cannibals who are man- 
eaters, and a race of people in Africa whose heads do 
grow beneath their shoulders: these travellers’ stories 
would so enchain her attention, that if she were called off 
at any time by household affairs, she would despatch with 
all haste that business, and return, and with a greedy ear 
devour Othello’s discourse. And once he took advantage 
of a pliant hour and drew from her a prayer, that he 
would tell her the whole story of his life at large, of which 
she had heard so much, but only by parts : to which he 
consented, and beguiled her of many a tear, when he spoke 
of some distressful stroke which his youth suffered. 

His story being done, she gave him for his pains a world 
of sighs ; she swore a pretty oath, that it was all passing 
strange, and pitiful, wondrous pitiful : she wished (she 
said) she had not heard it, yet she wished that Heaven 
had made her such a man; and then she thanked him, and 
told hkn if he had a friend who loved her, he had only to 
teach him how to tell his story, and that would woo her. 
Upon this hint, delivered not with more frankness than 
modesty, accompanied with a certain bewitching pretti- 
ness and blushes which Othello could not but understand, 
he spoke more openly of his love, and in this golden oppor- 


OTHELLO. 


59 


tunity gained the consent of the generous Lady Desde- 
mona privatety to marry him. 

Neither Othello’s color nor his fortune was such that 
it could be hoped Brabantio would accept him for a son- 
in-law. He had left his daughter free ; but he did expect 
that, as the manner of noble Venetian ladies was, she 
would choose erelong a husband of senatorial rank or ex- 
pectations : but in this he was deceived ; Desdemona loved 
the Moor, though he was black, and devoted her heart 
and fortunes to his valiant parts and qualities : so was 
her heart subdued to an implicit devotion to the man she 
had selected for a husband, that his very color, which to all 
but this discerning lady would have proved an insur- 
mountable objection, was by her esteemed above all the 
white skins and clear complexions of the 3 r oung Venetian 
nobility, her suitors. 

Their marriage, which, though privately carried, could 
not long be kept a secret, came to the ears of the old man, 
Brabantio, who appeared in a solemn council of the senate 
as an accuser of the Moor Othello, who by spells and 
witchcraft (he maintained) had seduced the affections of 
the fair Desdemona to marry him, without the consent of 
her father, and against the obligations of hospitality. 

At this juncture of time it happened that the state of 
Venice had immediate need of the services of Othello, news 
having arrived that the Turks with mighty preparation 
had fitted out a fleet, which was bending its course to the 
islaifd of Cyprus, with intent to regain that strong post 
from the Venetians, who then held it : in this emergency 
the state turned its eyes upon Othello, who alone was 
deemed adequate to conduct the defence of Cyprus against 


60 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


the Turks. So that Othello, now summoned before the 
senate, stood in their presence at once as a candidate for 
state employment, and as a culprit charged with offences 
which by the laws of Venice were made capital. 

The age and senatorial character of old Brabantio com- 
manded a most patient hearing from that grave assem- 
bly; but the incensed father conducted his accusation 
with so much intemperance, producing likelihoods and 
allegations for proofs, that, when Othello was called upon 
for his defence, he had only to relate a plain tale of the 
course of his love ; which he did with such an artless elo- 
quence, recounting the whole story of his wooing, as we 
have related it above, and delivered his speech with so 
noble a plainness (the evidence of truth), that the duke, 
who sat as chief judge, could not help confessing that a tale 
so told would have won his daughter too : and the spells 
and conjurations which Othello had used in his courtship 
plainly appeared to have been no more than the honest 
arts of men in love ; and the only witchcraft which he had 
used, the faculty of telling a soft tale to win a lady’s ear. 

This statement of Othello was confirmed by the testi- 
mony of the Lady Desdemona herself, who appeared in 
court, and professing a duty to her father for life and edu- 
cation, challenged leave of him to profess a yet higher duty 
to her lord and husband, even so much as her mother had 
shown in preferring him (Brabantio) above her father. 

The old senator, unable to maintain his plea, called the 
Moor to him with many expressions of sorrow, and, as an 
act of necessity, bestowed upon him his daughter, whom, 
if he had been free to withhold her (he told him) he would 
with all his heart have kept from him; adding, that he was 



DESDEMONA CONFESSES HER LOVE FOR OTHELLO, 


61 




62 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


glad at soul that he had no other child, for this behavior 
of Desdemona would have taught him to be a tyrant, and 
hang clogs on them for her desertion. 

This difficulty being got over, Othello, to whom custom 
had rendered the hardships of a military life as natural 
as food and rest are to other men, readily undertook the 
management of the wars in Cyprus : and Desdemona, pre- 
ferrir^ the honor of her lord (though with danger) before 
the indulgence of those idle delights in which new-married 
people usually waste their time, cheerfully consented to 
his going. 

No sooner were Othello and his lady landed in Cyprus, 
than news arrived that a desperate tempest had dispersed 
the Turkish fleet, and thus the island was secure from any 
immediate apprehension of an attack. But the war which 
Othello was to suffer was now beginning ; and the enemies 
which malice stirred -up against this innocent lady proved 
in their nature more deadly than strangers or infidels. 

Among all the general’s friends no one possessed the 
confidence of Othello more entirely than Cassio. Michael 
Cassio was a young soldier, a Florentine, gay, amorous 
and of pleasing address, favorite qualities with women; he 
was handsome and eloquent, and exactly such a person as 
might alarm the jealousy of a man advanced in years (as 
Othello in some measure was), who had married a young 
and beautiful wife ; but Othello was as free from jealousy 
as he was noble, and as incapable of suspecting, as of do- 
ing a base action. He had employed this Cassio in his 
love affair with Desdemona, and Cassio had been a sort of 
go-between in his suit ; for Othello, fearing that himself 
had not those soft parts of conversation which please 


OTHELLO. 


63 


ladies, and finding these qualities in his friend, would often 
depute Cassio to go (as he phrased it) a-courting for him ; 
such innocent simplicity being an honor rather than a 
blemish to the character of the valiant Moor. So that no 
wonder if next to Othello himself (but at far distance, as 
beseems a virtuous wife) thej^entle Desdemona loved and 
trusted Cassio. Nor had the marriage of this couple 
made any difference in their behavior to Michael Cassio. 
He frequented their house, and his free and rattling talk 
was no unpleasing variety to Othello, who was himself of 
a more serious temper; for such tempers are observed 
often to delight in their contraries, as a relief from the op- 
pressive excess of their own : and D.esdemona and Cassio 
would talk and laugh together, as in the days when he 
went a-courting for his friend. 

Othello had lately promoted Cassio to be the lieutenant, 
a place of trust, and nearest to the general’s person. 
This promotion gave great offence to Iago, an older 
officer, who thought he had a better claim than Cassio, 
and would often ridicule Cassio, as a fellow fit only for the 
company of ladies, and one that knew no more of the art 
of war, or how to set an army in array for battle, than a 
girl. Iago hated Cassio, and he hated Othello as well for 
favoring Cassio as for an unjust suspicion which he had 
lightly taken up against Othello, that the Moor was too 
fond of Iago’s wife Emilia. From these imaginary prov- 
ocations the plotting mind of Iago conceived a horrid 
scheme of revenge, which should involve both Cassio, the 
Moor and Desdemona in one common ruin. 

Iago was artful, and had studied human nature deeply, 


64 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


and he knew that of all the torments which afflict the 
mind of man (and far beyond bodily torture), the pains of 
jealousy were the most intolerable, and had the sorest 
sting 1 . If he could succeed in making Othello jealous of 
Cassio, he thought it would be an exquisite plot of re- 
venge, and might end in the death of Cassio or Othello, 
or both ; he cared not. 

The arrival of the general and his lady in Cyprus, meet- 
ing with the news of the dispersion of the enemy’s fleet, 
made a sort of holiday in the island. Everybody gave 
themselves up to feasting and making merry. Wine 
flowed in abundance and cups went round to the health of 
the black Othello and his lady, the fair Desdemona. 

Cassio had the direction of the guard that night, with a 
charge from Othello to keep the soldiers from excess in 
drinking, that no brawl might arise, to fright the inhabi- 
tants, or disgust them with the new landed forces. That 
night Iago began his deep-laid plans of mischief ; under 
color of loyalty and love to the general, he enticed Cassio 
to make rather too free with the bottle (a great fault in 
an officer upon guard). Cassio for a time resisted, but he 
could not long hold out against the honest freedom which 
Iago knew how to put on, but kept swallowing glass after 
glass (as Iago still plied him with drink and encouraging 
songs), and Cassio’s tongue ran over in praise of the lady 
Desdemona, whom he again and again toasted, affirming 
that she was a most exquisite lady : until at last the 
enemy which he put into his mouth stole away his brains ; 
and upon some provocation given him by a fellow whom 
Iago had set on, swords were drawn, and Montano, a 
worthy officer who interfered to appease the dispute, was. 



“MY DEAR OTHELLO!” 


65 





66 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


wounded in the scuffle. The riot now began to be general, 
and Iago, who had set on foot the mischief, was foremost 
in spreading the alarm, causing the castle-bell to be rung 
(as if some dangerous mutiny, instead of a slight drunken 
quarrel, had arisen) : the alarm-bell ringing awakened 
Othello, who, dressing in a hurry, and coming to the 
scene of action, questioned Cassio of the cause. Cassio 
was now come to himself, the effect of the wine having a 
little gone off, but was too much ashamed to reply ; and 
Iago, pretending a great reluctance to accuse Cassio, but- 
as it were forced into it by Othello, who insisted to know 
the truth, gave an account of the whole matter (leaving 
out his own share in it, which Cassio was too far gone to 
remember) in such a manner, as while he seemed to make 
Cassio's offence less, did indeed make it appear greater 
than it was. The result was that Othello, who was a strict 
observer of discipline, was compelled to take away Cassio’s 
place of lieutenant from him. 

Thus did Iago’s first artifice succeed completely; he 
had now undermined his hated rival, and thrust him out 
of his place : but a further use was hereafter to be made of 
the adventure of this disastrous night. 

Cassio, whom this misfortune had entirely sobered, 
now lamented to his seeming friend Iago, that he should 
have been such a fool as to transform himself into a beast. 
He was undone, for how could he ask the general for his 
place again ? he would tell him he was a drunkard. He 
despised himself. Iago, affecting to make light of it, 
said that he, or any man living, might be drunk upon 
occasion ; it remained now to make the best of a bad bar- 
gain ; the general’s wife was now the general, and could do 


OTHELLO. 


67 


anything with Othello ; that he were best to apply to the 
Lady Desdemona to mediate for him with her lord ; that 
she was of a frank, obliging disposition, and would readily 
undertake a good office of this sort, and set Cassio right 
again in the general’s favor ; and then this crack in their 
love would be made stronger than ever. 



DESDEMONA AND MICHAEL CASSIO. 


Cassio did as Iago advised him, and made application 
to the Lady Desdemona, who was easy to be won over in 
any honest suit ; and she promised Cassio that she would 
be his solicitor with her lord, and rather die than give up 
his cause. This she immediately set about in so earnest 
and pretty a manner, that Othello, who was mortally of- 


68 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


fended with Cassio, could not put her off. When he pleaded 
delay, and that it was too soon to pardon such an of- 
fender, she would not be beat back, but insisted that it 
should be the next night, or the morning after, or the next 
morning to that at farthest. Then she showed how pen- 
itent and humbled poor Cassio was, and that his offence 
did not deserve so sharp a check. And when Othello still 
hung back, “ What! my lord,” said she, “that I should 
have so much to do to plead for Cassio, Michael Cassio, 
that came a-courting for you, and oftentimes, when I have 
spoken in dispraise of you, had taken your part ? I count 
this but a little thing to ask of you. When I mean to try 
your love indeed, I shall ask a weighty matter.” Othello 
could deny nothing to such a pleader, and only requesting 
that Desdemona would leave the time to him, promised to 
receive Michael Cassio again into favor. 

It happened that Othello and Iago had entered into 
the room where Desdemona was, just as Cassio, who had 
been imploring her intercession, was departing at the 
opposite door; and Iago, who was full of art, said in a 
low voice, as if to himself, “I like not that.” Othello 
took no great notice of what he said ; indeed, the confer- 
ence which immediately took place with his lady put it 
out of his head : but he remembered it afterwards. For 
when Desdemona was gone, Iago, as if for mere satisfac- 
tion of his thought, questioned Othello whether Michael 
Cassio, when Othello was courting his lady, knew of his 
love. To this the general, answering in the affirmative, 
and adding, that he had gone between them very often 
during the courtship, Iago knitted his brow, as if he had 
got fresh light of some terrible matter, and cried, “In- 


OTHELLO. 


69 


deed ! ” This brought into Othello’s mind the words 
which Iago had let fall upon entering the room and 
seeing Cassio with Desdemona ; and he began to think 



there was some meaning in all this : for he deemed Iago 
to be a just man, and full of love and honesty, and what 
in a false knave would be tricks, in him seemed to be the 


70 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


natural workings of an honest mind, big with something 
too great for utterance : and Othello prayed Iago to speak 
what he knew, and to give his worst thoughts words. 
“And what,” said Iago, “if some thoughts very vile 
should have intruded into my breast, as where is the pal- 
ace into which foul things do not enter?” Then Iago 
went on to say, what a pity it were if any trouble should 
arise to Othello out of his imperfect observations ; that it 
would not be for Othello’s peace to know his thoughts ; 
that people’s good names were not to be taken away for 
slight suspicions ; and when Othello’s curiosity was raised 
almost to distraction with these hints and scattered words, 
Iago, as if in earnest care for Othello’s peace of mind, be- 
sought him to beware of jealousy ; with such art did this 
villain raise suspicions in the unguarded Othello, by the 
very caution which he pretended to give him against sus- 
picion. “I know,” said Othello, “that my wife is fair, 
loves company and feasting, is free of speech, sings, plays 
and dances well : but where virtue is these qualities are 
virtuous. I must have proof before I think her dishonest. ” 
Then Iago,. as if glad that Othello was slow to believe ill 
of his lady, frankly declared that he had no proof, but 
begged Othello to observe her behavior well, when Cassio 
was by ; not to be jealous nor too secure neither, for that 
he (Iago) knew the dispositions of the Italian ladies, his 
countrywomen, better than Othello could do ; and that in 
Venice the wives let Heaven see many pranks they dared 
not show their husbands. Then he artfully insinuated 
that Desdemona deceived her father in marrying with 
Othello, and carried it so closely, that the poor old man 
thought that witchcraft had been used. Othello was 


OTHELLO. 


71 


much moved with this argument, which brought the mat- 
ter home to him, for if she had deceived her father, why 
might she not deceive her husband ? 

Iago begged pardon for having moved him ; but Othel- 
lo, assuming an indifference, while he was really shaken 
with inward grief at Iago’s words, begged him to go 
on, which Iago did with many apologies, as if unwill- 
ing to produce anything against Cassio, whom he called 
his friend : he then came strongly to the point, and re- 
minded Othello how Desdemona had refused many suita- 
ble matches of her own clime and complexity, and had 
married him, a Moor, which showed unnatural in her, and 
proved her to have a headstrong will : and when her bet- 
ter judgment returned, how probable it was she should 
fall upon comparing Othello with the fine forms and clear 
white complexions of the young Italians her countrymen. 
He concluded with advising Othello to put off his recon- 
cilement with Cassio a little longer, and in the meanwhile 
to note with what earnestness Desdemona should inter- 
cede in his behalf ; for that much would be seen in that. 
So mischievously did this artful villain lay his plots to 
turn the gentle qualities of this innocent lady into her 
destruction, and make a net for her out of her own good- 
ness to entrap her : first setting Cassio on to entreat her 
mediation, and then out of that very mediation contriving 
stratagems for her ruin. 

The conference ended with Iago’s begging Othello to 
account his wife innocent until he had more decisive proof ; 
and Othello promised to be patient; but from that mo- 
ment the deceived Othello never tasted content of mind. 
Poppy, nor the juice of mandragora, nor all the sleeping- 


72 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


potions in the world, could ever again restore to him that 
sweet rest which he had enjoyed but yesterday. His oc- 
cupation sickened upon him. He no longer took delight 
in arms. His heart, that used to be roused at the sight 
of troops, and banners, and battle-array, and would stir 
and leap at the sound of a drum, or a trumpet, or a neigh- 
ing war-horse, seemed to have lost all that pride and am- 
bition which are a soldier’s virtue; and his military 
ardor and all his old joys forsook him. Sometimes he 
thought his wife honest, and at times he thought her not 
so; sometimes he thought Iago just, a*nd at times he 
thought him not so; then he would wish that he had 
never known of it ; he was not the w T orse for her loving 
Cassio, so long as he knew it not: torn in pieces with 
these distracting thoughts, he once laid hold on logo’s 
throat, and demanded proof of Desdemona’s guilt, or 
threatened instant death for his having belied her. Iago, 
feigning indignation that his honesty should be taken for 
a vice, asked Othello, if he had not sometimes seen a hand- 
kerchief spotted with strawberries in his wife’s hand. 
Othello answeied, that he had given her such a one, and 
that it was his first gift. “That same handkerchief,” 
said Iago, “did I see Michael Cassio this day wipe his 
face with.” “If it be as you say,” said Othello, “ I will 
not rest till a wide revenge swallow them up : and first, 
for a token of your fidelity, I expect that Cassio shall be 
put to death within three days; and for that fair devil 
(meaning his lady), I will withdraw and devise some swift 
means of death for her.” 

Trifles light as air are to the jealous proofs as strong 
as holy writ. A handkerchief of his wife’s seen in Cassio’s 


OTHELLO. 


73 


hand was motive enough to the deluded Othello to pass 
sentence of death upon them both, without once inquiring 
how Cassio came by it. Desdemona had never given such 
a present to Cassio, nor would this constant lady have 
wronged her lord with doing so naughty a thing as giving 
his presents to another man ; both Cassio and Desdemona 
were innocent of any offence against Othello ; but the 
wicked lago, whose spirits never slept in contrivance of 
villany, had made his wife (a good, but a meek woman) 
steal this handkerchief from Desdemona, under pretence 
of getting the work copied, but in reality, to drop it in 
Cassio’s way, where he might find it, and give a handle 
to Iago’s suggestion that it was Desdemona’s present, 
Othello, soon after meeting his wife, pretended that he 
had a headache (as he might indeed with truth), and de- 
sired her to lend him her handkerchief to hold his temples. 
She did so. “ Not this,” said Othello, “ but that handker- 
chief I gave you.” Desdemona had it not about her (for 
indeed it was stolen as we have related), “ How ! ” said 
Othello, “ this is a fault indeed. That handkerchief an 
Egyptian woman gave to my mother ; the woman was a 
witch, and could read people’s thoughts : she told my 
mother, while she kept it, it would make her amiable, and 
my father would love her ; but, if she lost it, or gave it 
away, my father’s fancy would turn, and he would loathe 
her as much as he had loved her. She dying gave it me, 
and bade me if I ever married, to give it to my wife. I did 
so ; take heed of it. Make it a darling as precious as your 
eye.” “Is it possible ?” said the frighted lady. “ ’Tis 
true ; ” continued Othello ; 4 ‘ it is a magical handkerchief ; 
a sibyl that had lived in the world two hundred years, in a 


74 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


fit of prophetic fury worked it ; the silkworms that fur- 
nished the silk were hallowed, and it was dyed in mummy 
of maidens’ hearts conserved.” Desdemona, hearing the 
wondrous virtues of the handkerchief, was ready to die 
with fear, for she plainly perceived she had lost it, and with 
it, she feared, the affections of her husband. Then Othello 
started, and looked as if he were going to do some rash 
thing, and still he demanded the handkerchief, which 
when she could not produce, she tried to divert her hus- 
band from too serious thoughts, and cheerfully told him, 
she saw all his talk about the handkerchief was only to 
put her off from her suit about Michael Cassio, whom she 
went on to praise (as Iago had foretold), till Othello in 
perfect distraction burst out of the room, and then Des- 
demona, though unwillingly, began to suspect her lord 
was jealous. 

What cause she could have ministered to him she knew 
not, and then she accused herself for accusing the noble 
Othello, and thought to be sure that some untoward news 
from Venice, or some state troubles, had puddled his 
spirits, and made his temper not so sweet as formerly. 
And she said, “ Men are not gods, and we must not look 
for that observance from them when they are married 
which they show us on the bridal day.” And she be- 
shrewed herself for so unkindly judging of his unkindness. 

Again Othello and Desdemona met, and he accused her 
more plainly of being unfaithful, and of loving another 
man, but he did not name whom : and Othello wept, and 
Desdemona said, “ Alas ! the heavy day ! why do you 
weep ? ” Othello told her he could have borne all sorts of 
evils with fortitude— poverty, and disease, and disgrace; 



DESDEMONA ACCUSED BY OTHELLO. 





76 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


but her infidelity had broken his heart: and he called 
her a weed, that looked so fair, and smelled so sweet, that' 
the sense ached at it; and wished she had never been born. 
And when he had left her, this innocent lady was so stupe- 
fied with wonder at her lord’s untrue suspicion of her, that 
a weight-like sleep came over her, and she only desired 
her attendant to make her bed, and to lay her wedding 
sheets upon it., saying, that when people teach their babes, 
they do it by gentle means and easy tasks, and Othello 
might have chid her so ; for in good faith she was but a 
child when she was chidden. And this was all the com- 
plaint which this gentle lady made. 

Desdemona being retired to bed, expecting her lord 
would follow her, soon fell into a slumber, the effect of her 
troubled spirits, when Othello entered the chamber, full of 
the black purpose which he had meditated of putting his 
lady to death. But when he saw her asleep, he thought 
he would not shed her blood, nor scar that white skin of 
hers, more white than alabaster. But he was resolved she 
should die, else (as he said) she would live to betray more 
men, as she had done him. Then he kissed her for the last 
time (as he said), and that kiss was so sweet, he must 
needs kiss her again ; and he wept, but he said they were 
cruel tears. 

Desdemona was awakened with his kisses, and she 
looked upon Othello, and she saw him gnaw his under lip, 
and roll his eyes, and she knew he was always fatal when 
he looked so : and he bade her prepare for death, and to 
say her prayers, for he would not kill her soul. And this 
innocent wife, as she lay at his mercy, begged for com- 
passion, and to know her lault ; and then he named Cassio 



DEATH OF DESDEMONA 






















78 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


and the handkerchief which (he said) she had given him ; 
and as the guiltless lady was proceeding to clear herself 
he suddenly would hear no more, but covering her up in 
the bedclothes stifled her till she died. 

In this instant of time was brought into the house 
Cassio, wounded and bleeding, whom lago had set one of 
his creatures on to assassinate ; but the fellow not suc- 
ceeding in his attempt to kill Cassio (whom he wounded, 
but not mortally), and being himself killed by lago to 
prevent discovery, in his pockets were found certain let- 
ters, which made the guilt of lago and the innocence of 
Cassio clear beyond all doubt ; and Cassio now came to 
beg pardon of Othello, and to ask wherein he had offended 
him, that he had employed lago to murder him. 

This discovery was as a thunderstroke to Othello, who 
now plainly saw that he was no better than a murderer, 
and that his wife (poor innocent lady) had been ever faith- 
ful to him ; the extreme anguish of which discovery, mak- 
ing life insupportable, he fell upon his sword, and throw- 
ing himself upon the body of his dear injured lady, expired. 

These rash acts raised much passion of horror and 
amazement in the bystanders, for Othello had borne a fair 
reputa tion, and till he was wrought upon by the arts of a 
villain, which his own noble nature never gave him leave 
to suspect, he was a loving and a doting husband. He 
had loved, not wisely, but too well; and his manly eyes 
(when he learned his mistake), though not used to weep 
on every small occasion, dropped tears as fast as the 
Arabian trees their gum. And when he was dead all his 
former merits and his valiant acts were remembered. 
Nothing now remained for his successor but to put the 


OTHELLO, 


79 


utmost censure of the law in force against Iago, who was 
executed with strict tortures ; and to send word to the 
state of Venice of the lamentable death of their renowned 
general. 



80 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


MACBETH. 

TTTHEN Duncan the Meek reigned king of Scotland, 
VV there lived a great thane, or lord, called Macbeth. 
This Macbeth was a near kinsman to the king, and in 
great esteem at court for his valor and conduct in the 
wars; an example of which he had lately given, in defeat- 
ing a rebel army assisted by the troops of Norway in ter- 
rible numbers. 

The two Scottish generals, Macbeth and Banquo, re- 
turning victorious from this great battle, their way lay 
over a blasted heath, where they were stopped by the 
strange appearance of three figures like women, except 
that they had beards, and their withered skins and wild 
attire made them look not like any earthly creatures. 
Macbeth first addressed them, when they, seemingly 
offended, laid each one her choppy finger upon her skinny 
lips in token of silence: and the first of them saluted 
Macbeth with the title of thane of Glamis. The general 
was not a little startled to find himself known by such 
creatures ; but how much more, when the second of them 
followed up that salute by giving him the title of thane of 
Cawdor, to which honor he had no pretensions ; and again 
the third bid him, “ All hail ! king that shall be here- 
after ! ” Such a prophetic greeting might well amaze 
him, who knew that while the king’s sons lived he could 
not hope to succeed to the throne. Then turning to Ban- 



THE WEIRD SISTERS ON THE BLASTED HEATH. 


81 



82 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


quo, they pronounced him, in a sort of riddling terms, to 
be lesser than Macbeth and greater ! not so happy, yet 
much happier! and prophesied that though he should 
never reign, yet his sons after him should be kings in 
Scotland. They then turned into air and vanished: by 
which the generals knew them to be the weird sisters, or 
witches. 

While they stood pondering on the strangeness of this 
adventure, there arrived certain messengers from the 
king, who were empowered by him to confer upon Mac- 
beth the dignity of thane of Cawdor. An event so mirac- 
ulously corresponding with the prediction of the witches 
astonished Macbeth, and he stood wrapped in amazement, 
unable to make reply to the messengers ; and in that point 
of time swelling hopes arose in his mind, that the predic- 
tion of the third witch might in like manner have its 
accomplishment, and that he should one day reign king in 
Scotland. 

Turning to Banquo, he said, “ Do you not hope that 
your children shall be kings, when what the witches 
promised to me has so wonderfully come to pass?” 
“That hope,” answered the general, “might enkindle 
you to aim at the throne ; but oftentimes these ministers 
of darkness tell us truths in little things to betray us into 
deeds of greatest consequence.” 

But the wicked suggestions of the witches had sunk 
too deep into the mind of Macbeth to allow him to attend 
to the warnings of the good Banquo. From that time he 
bent all his thoughts how to compass the throne of Scotland. 

Macbeth had a wife, to whom he communicated the 
strange prediction of the weird sisters, and its partial 


MACBETH. 


83 


accomplishment. She was a had, ambitious woman, and 
so as her husband and herself could arrive at greatness, 
she cared not much by what means. She spurred on the 
reluctant purpose of Macbeth, who felt compunction at 
the thoughts of blood, and did not cease to represent the 
murder of the king as a step absolutely necessary to the 
fulfilment of the flattering prophecy. 

It happened at this time that the king, who out of his 
royal condescension would oftentimes visit his principal 
nobility upon gracious terms, came to Macbeth’s house, 
attended by his two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and a 
numerous train of thanes and attendants, the more to 
honor Macbeth for the triumphal success of his wars. 

The castle of Macbeth was pleasantly situated, and the 
air about it was sweet and wholesome, which appeared by 
the nests which the martlet, or swallow, had built under 
all the jutting friezes and buttresses of the building, 
wherever it found a place of advantage : for where those 
birds most breed and haunt the air is observed to be deli- 
cate. The king entered well pleased with the place, and 
not less so with the attentions and respect of his honored 
hostess, Lady Macbeth, who had the art of covering 
treacherous purposes with smiles : and could look like the 
innocent flower, while she was indeed the serpent under it. 

The king, being tired with his journey, went early to 
bed, and in his state-room two grooms of his chamber (as 
was the custom) slept beside him. He had been unusually 
pleased with his reception, and had made presents before 
he retired to his principal officers ; and among the rest, 
had sent a rich diamond to Lady Macbeth, greeting her by 
the name of his most kind hostess. 


84 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Now was the middle of night, when over half the world 
nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse men’s 
mipds asleep, and none but the wolf and the murderer is 
abroad. This was the time when Lady Macbeth waked to 
plot the murder of the king. She would not have under- 
taken a deed so abhorrent to her sex, but that she feared 
her husband’s nature, that it was too full of the milk of 
human kindness to do a contrived murder. She knew 
him to be ambitious, but withal to be scrupulous, and not 
yet prepared for that height of crime which commonly in 
the end accompanies inordinate ambition. She had won 
him to consent to the murder, but she doubted his resolu- 
tion : and she feared that the natural tenderness of his 
disposition (more humane than her own) would come 
between, and defeat the purpose. So with her own hands 
armed with a dagger, she approached the king’s bed ; 
having taken care to ply the grooms of his chamber so 
with wine, that they slept intoxicated, and careless of 
their charge. There lay Duncan, in a sound sleep after 
the fatigues of his journey, and as she viewed him ear- 
nestly, there was something in his face, as he slept, which 
resembled her own father ; and she had not the courage 
to proceed. 

She returned to confer with her husband. His resolu- 
tion had begun to stagger. He considered that there 
were strong reasons against the deed. In the first place, 
he was not only a subject, but a near kinsman to the 
king ; and he had been his host and entertainer that day, 
whose duty by the laws of hospitality it was to shut the 
door against his murderers, not bear the knife himself. 
Then he considered how just and merciful a king this 


MACBETH. 


85 



Duncan had been, how clear of offence to his subjects, 
how loving to his nobility, and in particular to him ; that 
such kings are the peculiar care of heaven, and their sub- 


INCITES HER HUSBAND TO THE DEED OF BLOOD. 

jects doubly bound to revenge their deaths. Besides, by 
the favors of the king, Macbeth stood high in the opinion 
of all sorts of men, and how would those honors be 
stained by the reputation of so foul a murder ! 


86 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


In these conflicts of the mind Lady Macbeth found her 
husband inclining to the better part, and resolving to 
proceed no further. But she being a woman not easily 
shaken from her evil purpose, began to pour in at his ears 
words which infused a portion of her own spirit into his 
mind, assigning reason upon reason why he should not 
shrink from what he had undertaken ; how easy the deed 
was ; how soon it would be over ; and how the action of 
one short night would give to all their nights and days to 
come a sovereign sway and royalty ! Then she threw 
contempt on his change of purpose, and accused him of 
fickleness and cowardice; and declared that she had given 
suck, and knew how tender it was to love the babe that 
milked her, but she would, while it was smiling in her face, 
have plucked it from her breast, and dashed its brains 
out, if she had so sworn to do it, as he had sworn to perform 
that murder. Then she added, how practicable it was to 
lay the guilt of the deed upon the drunken, sleepy grooms. 
And with the valor of her tongue she so chastised his 
sluggish resolutions, that he once more summoned up 
courage to the bloody business. 

So, taking the dagger in his hand, he softly stole in the 
dark to the room where Duncan lay ; and as he went he 
thought he saw another dagger in the air, with the 
handle towards him, and on the blade and at the point of 
it drops of blood : but when he tried to grasp at it, it was 
nothing but air, a mere phantasm proceeding from his own 
hot and oppressed brain and the business he had in hand. 

Getting rid of this fear he entered the king’s room, 
whom he despatched with one stroke of his dagger. Just 
as he had done the murder, one of the grooms who slept 


MACBETH. 


87 


in the chamber, laughed in his sleep and the other cried 
“ Murder,” which woke them both ; but they said a short 
prayer ; one of them said, “ God bless us 1 ” and the other 
answered, “ Amen and addressed themselves to sleep 
again. Macbeth, who stood listening to them, tried to 
say “ Amen ” when the fellow said “ God bless us ! ” but 
though he had most need of a blessing, the word stuck in 
his throat and he could not pronounce it. 

Again he thought he heard a voice which cried, “ Sleep 
no more ; Macbeth doth murder sleep, the innocent sleep, 
that nourishes life.” Still it cried, “ Sleep no more,” to 
all the house. “ Glamis hath murdered sleep, and there- 
fore Cawdor shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no 
more.” 

With such horrible imaginations Macbeth returned to 
his listening wife, who began to think he had failed of his 
purpose, and that the deed was somehow frustrated. He 
came in so distracted a state, that she reproached him 
with his want of firmness and sent him to wash his hands 
of the blood which stained them, while she took his dagger, 
with purpose to stain the cheeks of the grooms with blood, 
to make it seem their guilt. 

Morning came, and with it the discovery of the murder, 
which could not be concealed ; and though Macbeth and 
his lady made great show of grief, and the proofs against 
the grooms (the dagger being produced against them and 
their faces smeared with blood) were sufficiently strong, 
yet the entire suspicion fell upon Macbeth, whose induce- 
ments to such a deed were so much more forcible than such 
poor silly grooms could be supposed to have ; and Dun- 
can’s two sons fled. Malcolm, the eldest, sought for refuge 


88 TALES FROM ‘ SHAKESPEARE. 


in the English court ; aud the youngest, Donalbain, made 
his escape to Ireland. 

The king’s sons, who should have succeeded him, hav- 
ing thus vacated the throne, Macbeth as next heir was 
crowned king, and thus the prediction of the weird sisters 
was literally accomplished. 

Though placed so high Macbeth and his queen could not 
forget the prophecy of the weird sisters, that, though 
Macbeth should be king, yet not his children, but the 
children of Banquo, should be kings after him. The 
thought of this, and that they had defiled their hands 
with blood, and done so great crimes, only to place tbs 
posterity of Banquo upon the throne, so rankled within 
them, that they determined to put to death both Banquo 
and his son, to make void the predictions of the weird 
sisters, which in their own case had been so remarkably 
brought to pass. 

For this purpose they made a great supper, to which 
they invited all the chief thanes; and among the rest, with 
marks of particular respect, Banquo and his son Fleance 
were invited. The way by which Banquo was to pass to 
the palace at night was beset by murderers appointed by 
Macbeth, who stabbed Banquo ; but in the scuffle Fleance 
escaped. From that Fleance descended a race of mon- 
archs who afterwards filled the Scottish throne, ending 
with James the Sixth of Scotland and the First of Eng-’ 
land, under whom the two crowns of England and Scot- 
land were united. 

At supper the queen, whose manners were in the high- 
est degree affable and royal, played the hostess with a 
gracefulness and attention which conciliated every one 


MACBETH. 


89 



present, and Macbeth discoursed freely with his thanes 
and nobles, saying that all that was honorable in the 
country was under his roof, if he had but his good friend 
Banquo present, whom yet he hoped he should rather 


THE DISCOVERY OF THE MURDER. 

have to chide for neglect than to lament for any mis- 
chance. Just at these words the ghost of Banquo, whom 
he had caused to be murdered, entered the room and 
placed himself on a chair which Macbeth was about to 


90 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 

occupy. Though Macbeth was a bold man and one that 
could have faced the devil without trembling, at this hor- 
rible sight his cheeks turned white with fear, and he 
stood quite unmanned, with his eyes fixed upon the ghost. 
His queen and all the nobles, who saw nothing, but per- 
ceived him gazing (as they thought) upon an empty chair, 
took it for a fit of distraction ; and she reproached him, 
whispering that it was but the same fancy which had 
made him see the dagger in the air when he was about to 
kill Duncan. But Macbeth continued to see the ghost, 
and gave no heed to all they could say, while he addressed 
it with distracted words, yet so significant, that his queen, 
fearing the dreadful secret would be disclosed, in great 
haste dismissed the guests, excusing the infirmity of Mac- 
beth as a disorder he was often troubled with. 

To such dreadful fancies Macbeth was subject. His 
queen and he had their sleeps afflicted with terrible dreams, 
and the blood of Banquo troubled them not more than the 
escape of Fleance, whom now they looked upon as father 
to a line of kings, who should keep their posterity out of 
the throne. With these miserable thoughts they found 
no peace, and Macbeth determined once more to seek out 
the weird sisters, and know from them the worst. 

He sought them in a cave upon the heath, where they, 
who knew by foresight of his coming, were engaged in 
preparing their dreadful charms, by which they conjured 
up infernal spirits to reveal to them futurity. Their horrid 
ingredients were toads, bats and serpents, the eye of a 
newt and the tongue of a dog, the leg of a lizard and the 
wing of a night-owl, the scale of a dragon, the tooth of a 
wolf, the maw of the ravenous salt-sea shark, the mummy 



MACBETH SEES BANQUO’S GHOST 


91 





92 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


of a witch, the root of the poisonous hemlock (this to have 
effect must be digged in the dark), the gall of a goat and 
the liver of a Jew, with slips of the yew-tree that roots 
itself in graves, and the finger of a dead child : all these 
were set on to boil in a great kettle or caldron, which as 
fast as it grew too hot, was cooled with a baboon’s blood: 
to these they poured in the blood of a sow that had eaten 
her young, and they threw into the flame the grease that 
had sweaten from a murderer’s gibbet. By these charms 
they bound the infernal spirits to answer their questions. 

It was demanded of Macbeth whether he would have his 
doubts resolved by them, or by their masters the spirits. 
He, nothing daunted by the dreadful ceremonies which he 
saw, boldly answered, “ Where are they ? let me see 
them.” And they called the spirits, which were three. 
And the first arose in the likeness of an armed head, and 
he called Macbeth by name, and bid him beware of the 
thane of Fife ; for which caution Macbeth thanked him : 
for Macbeth had entertained a jealousy of Macduff, the 
thane of Fife. 

t And the second spirit arose in the likeness of a bloody 
! child, and he called Macbeth by name, and bid him have 
no fear, but laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of 
woman born should have power to hurt him : and he ad- 
vised him to be bloody, bold and resolute. “ Then live, 
Macduff ! ” cried the king; “what need I fear of thee ? 
but yet I will make assurance doubly sure. Thou shalt 
not live ; that I may tell pale-hearted Fear it lies, and 
sleep in spite of thunder.” 

That spirit being dismissed, a third arose in the form of 





MACBETH IN THE CAVE OF THE WEIRD SISTERS. 


93 






94 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


a child crowned, with a tree in his hand. He called Mac- 
beth by name, and comforted him against conspiracies, 
saying that he should never be vanquished until the wood 
of Birnam to Dunsinane Hill should come against him. 
“ Sweet bodements ! good ! ” cried Macbeth ; “ who can 
unfix the forest and move it from its earth-bound roots ? 
I see I shall live the usual period of man’s life, and not be 
cut off by a violent death. But my heart throbs to know 
one thing. Tell me, if your art can tell so much, if Ban- 
quo’s issue shall ever reign in this kingdom ? ” Here the 
caldron sunk into the ground, and a noise of music was 
heard, and eight shadows, like kings, passed by Macbeth, 
and Banquo last, who bore a glass which showed the 
figures of many more, and Banquo all bloody smiled upon 
Macbeth and pointed to them ; by which Macbeth knew 
that these were the posterity of Banquo, who should reign 
after him in Scotland ; and the witches, with a sound of 
soft music and with dancing, making a show of duty and 
welcome to Macbeth, vanished. And from this time the 
thoughts of Macbeth were all bloody and dreadful. 

The first thing he heard when he got out of the witches’ 
cave was that Macduff, thane of Fife, had fled to Eng- 
land, to join the army which was forming against him 
under Malcolm, the eldest son of the late king, with intent 
to displace Macbeth and set Malcolm, the right heir, upon 
the throne. Macbeth, stung with rage, set upon the 
castle of Macduff, and put his wife and children, whom the 
thane had left behind, to the sword, and extended the 
slaughter to all who claimed the least relationship to 
Macduff. 


MACBETH. 


95 


These and such like deeds alienated the minds of all his 
chief nobility from him. Such as could fled to join with 
Malcolm and Macduff, who were now approaching' with a 



MACDUFF’S WIFE AND CHILDREN SLAIN. 

powerful army which they had raised in England, and the 
rest secretly wished success to their arms, though for fear 
of Macbeth they could take no active part. His recruits 


96 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


went on slowly. Everybody hated the tyrant, nobody 
loved or honored him, but all suspected him, and he be- 
gan to envy the condition of Duncan, whom he had mur- 
dered, who slept soundly in his grave, against whom 
treason had done its worst: steel nor poison, domestic 
malice nor foreign levies could hurt him any longer. 

While these things were acting, the queen, who had 
been the sole partner in his wickedness, in whose bosom 
he could sometimes seek a momentary repose from those 
terrible dreams which afflicted them both nightly, died, it 
is supposed by her own hands, unable to bear the remorse 
of guilt and public hate ; by which event he was left alone, 
without a soul to love or care for him, or a friend to whom 
he could confide his wicked purposes. 

He grew careless of life and wished for death ; but the 
near approach of Malcolm’s army roused in him what re- 
mained of his ancient courage, and he determined to die 
(as he expressed it) “ with armor on his back.” Besides 
this the hollow promises of the witches had filled him with 
false confidence, and he remembered the sayings of the 
spirits that none of woman born was to hurt him, and that 
he was never to be vanquished till Birnam wood should 
come to Dunsinane, which he thought could never be. So 
he shut himself up in his castle, whose impregnable 
strength was such as defied a siege : here he sullenly 
awaited the approach of Malcolm. When upon a day 
there came a messenger to him, pale and shaking with 
fear, almost unable to report that which he had seen : for 
he averred that as he stood upon his watch on the hill he 
looked towards Birnam, and to his thinking the wood be- 
gan to move ! “ Liar and slave ! ” cried Macbeth, “ if thou 



MACBETH A ND MACDUFF 



98 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


speakest false thou shalt hang alive upon the next tree, 
till famine end thee. If thy tale he true, I care not if thou 
dost as much by me:” for Macbeth now began to faint in 
resolution and to doubt the equivocal speeches of the 
spirits. He was not to fear till Birnam wood should come 
to Dunsinane : and now a wood did move ! “ However,” 

said he, “ if this which he avouches he true, let us arm 
and out. There is no flying hence nor staying here. I 
begin to be weary of the sun and wish my life at an end.” 
With these desperate speeches he sallied forth upon the 
besiegers, who had now come up to the castle. 

The strange appearance, which had given the messenger 
an idea of a wood moving, is easily solved. When the be- 
sieging army marched through the wood of Birnam, Mal- 
colm, like a skilful general, instructed his soldiers to hew 
down every one a bough and bear it before him, by way 
of concealing the true numbers of his host. This march- 
ing of the soldiers with boughs had at a distance the ap- 
pearance which had frightened the messenger. Thus 
were the words of the spirit brought to pass, in a sense 
different from that in which Macbeth had understood 
them, and one great hold of his confidence was gone. 

And now a severe skirmishing took place, in which 
Macbeth, though feebly supported by those who called 
themselves his friends, but in reality hated the tyrant and 
inclined to the party of Malcolm and Macduff, yet fought 
with the extreme of rage and valor, cutting to pieces all 
who were opposed to him, till he came to where Macduff 
was fighting. Seeing Macduff, and remembering the 
caution of the spirit, who had counselled him to avoid 
Macduff above all men, he would have turned, but Mac- 


MACBETH, 


99 


duff, who had been seeking him through the whole fight, 
opposed his turning, and a fierce contest ensued ; Macduff 
giving him many foul reproaches for the murder of his 
wife and children. Macbeth, whose soul was charged 
enough with blood of that family already, would still have 
declined the combat ; but Macduff still urged him to it,, 
calling him tyrant, murderer, hell-hound and villain. 

Then Macbeth remembered the words of the spirit, 
how none of woman born should hurt him ; and smiling 
confidently he said to Macduff, “ Thou losest thy labor, 
Macduff. As easily thou mayest impress the air with thy 
sword, as make me vulnerable. I bear a charmed life, 
which must not yield to one of woman born.” 

“ Despair thy charm,” said Macduff, “and let that 
lying spirit, whom thou hast served, tell thee that Mac- 
duff was never born of woman, never as the ordinary 
manner of men is to be born, but was untimely taken 
from his mother.” 

“ Accursed be the tongue which tells me so,” said the 
trembling Macbeth, who felt his last hold of confidence 
give way ; “ and let never man in future believe the lying 
equivocations of witches and juggling spirits, who deceive 
us in words which have double senses, and while they 
keep their promise literally, disappoint our hopes with a 
different meaning. I will not fight with thee.” 

“Then live ! ’’ said the scornful Macduff; “we will 
have a show of thee, as men show monsters, and a painted 
board, on which shall be written, ‘ Here men may see the 
tyrant ! 9 99 

“ Never,” said Macbeth, whose courage returned with 
despair; “ I will not live to kiss the ground before young 


100 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Malcolm’s feet, and to be baited with the curses of the 
rabble. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
and thou opposed to me wast never born of woman, yet 
will I try the last.” With these frantic words he threw 
himself upon Macduff, who, after a severe struggle, in the 
end overcame him, and cutting off his head, made a pres- 
ent of it to the young and lawful king Malcolm ; who took 
upon him the government, which by the machinations of 
the usurper he had so long been deprived of, and ascended 
the throne of Duncan the Meek amid the acclamations of 
the nobles and the people. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 


S HYLOCK, the Jew, lived at Venice ; he was a usurer, 
who had amassed an immense fortune by lending 
money at great interest to Christian merchants. Shy lock, 
being a hard-hearted man, exacted the payment of the 
money he lent with such severity, that he was much dis- 
liked by all good men, and particularly by Antonio, a 
young merchant of Venice; and Shy lock as much hated 
Antonio, because he used to lend money to people in dis- 
tress, and would never take any interest for the money 
he lent ; therefore there was great enmity between this 
covetous Jew and the generous merchant Antonio. 
Whenever Antonio met Shylock on the Rialto (or Ex- 
change), he used to reproach him with his usuries and 
hard dealings ; which the Jew would bear with seeming 
patience, while he secretly meditated revenge. 

Antonio was the kindest man that lived, the best condi- 
tioned, and had the most unwearied spirit in doing cour- 
tesies; indeed he was one in whom the ancient Roman 
honor more appeared than in any that drew breath in 
Italy. He was greatly beloved by all his fellow-citizens ; 
but the friend who was nearest and dearest to his heart 
was Bassanio, a noble Venetian, who, having but a small 
patrimony, had nearly exhausted his little fortune by 
living in too expensive a manner for his slender means, as 
young men of high rank with small fortunes are too apt 
to do. Whenever Bassanio wanted money, Antonio as- 

101 


102 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


sisted him ; and it seemed as if they had but one heart 
and one purse between them. 

One day Bassanio came to Antonio, and told him that he 
wished to repair his fortune by a wealthy marriage with 
a lady whom he dearly loved, whose father, that was 
lately dead, had left her sole heiress to a large estate ; 
and that in her father’s lifetime he used to visit at her 
house, when he thought he had observed this lady had 
sometimes from her eyes sent speechless messages, that 
seemed to say he would be no unwelcome suitor ; but not 
having money to furnish himself with an appearance be- 
fitting the lover of so rich an heiress, he besought An- 
tonio to add to the many favors he had shown him, by 
lending him three thousand ducats. 

Antonio had no money by him at that time to lend his 
friend ; but expecting soon to have some ships come home 
laden with merchandise, he said he would go to Shylock, 
the rich money-lender, and borrow the money upon the 
credit of those ships. 

Antonio and Bassanio went together to Shylock, and 
Antonio asked the Jew to lend him three thousand ducats 
< upon an interest he should require, to be paid out of the 
merchandise contained in his ships at sea. On this, Shy- 
lock thought within himself, “ If I can once catch him on 
the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him ; he 
hates our Jewish nation ; he lends out money gratis ; and 
among the merchants he rails at me and my well-earned 
bargains, which hf calls interest. Cursed be my tribe if 
I forgive him ! ” Antonio finding he was musing within 
himself and did not answer, and being impatient for 
money, said, “ Shylock, do you hear ? will you lend the 



mimM. 


‘Mir'Mi'V* 


- 




SHYLOCK AND JESSICA. 












104 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


money ?” To this question the Jew replied, “ Signor 
Antonio, on the Rialto many a time and often you have 
railed at me about my moneys and my usuries, and I have 
borne it with a patient shrug*, for sufferance is the badge 
of all our tribe ; and then you have called me unbeliever, 
cut-throat dog, and spit upon my Jewish garments, and 
spurned at me with your foot, as if I were a cur. Well 
then, it now appears you need my help; and you come to 
me, and say, Shy lock, lend me moneys. Has a dog 
money ? Is it possible a cur should lend three thousand 
ducats ? Shall I bend low and say, Fair sir, you spat 
upon me on Wednesday last, another time you called me 
dog, and for these courtesies I am to lend you moneys? ” 
Antonio replied, “ I am as like to call you so again, to 
spit on you again, and spurn you too. If you will lend 
me this money, lend it not to me as to a friend, but rather 
lend it to me as to an enemy, that, if I break, you may 
with better face exact the penalty.” “ Why, look you,” 
said Shy lock, “ how you storm ! I would be friends with 
you, and have your love. I will forget the shames you 
have put upon me. I will supply your wants, and take 
no interest for my money.” This seemingly kind offer 
greatly surprised Antonio ; and then Shylock, still pre- 
tending kindness, and that all he did was to gain Anto- 
nio’s love, again said he would lend him the three thousand 
ducats, and take no interest for his money ; only Antonio 
should go with him to a lawyer, and there sign in merry 
sport a bond, that if he did not repay the money by a 
certain day, he would forfeit a pound of flesh, to be cut 
off from any part of his body that Shylock pleased. 






106 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


“ Content,” said Antonio : “I will sign to this bond, 
and say there is much kindness in the Jew.” 

Bassanio said Antonio should not sign to such a bond 
for him ; and still Antonio insisted that he would sign it, 
for that before the day of payment came his ships would 
return laden with many times the value of the money. 

Shy lock, hearing this debate, exclaimed, “ Oh father 
Abraham, what suspicious people these Christians are ! 
Their own hard dealings teach them to suspect the 
thoughts of others. I pray you tell me this, Bassanio : 
if he should break this day, what should I gain by the ex- 
ecution of the forfeiture? A pound of man’s flesh, taken 
from a man, is not so estimable, nor profitable neither, is 
the flesh of mutton or of beef. I say, to buy his favar I 
offer this friendship : if he will take it, so ; if not, adieu.” 

At last, against the advice of Bassanio, who, notwith- 
standing all the Jew had said of his kind intentions, did 
not like his friend should run the hazard of this shocking 
penalty for his sake, Antonio signed the bond, thinking it 
really was (as the Jew said) merely in sport. 

The rich heiress that Bassanio wished to marry lived 
near V enice, at a place called Belmont : her name was 
Portia, and in the graces of her person and her mind she 
was nothing inferior to that Portia, of whom we read, 
who was Cato’s daughter, and the wife of Brutus. 

Bassanio being so kindly supplied with money by his 
friend Antonio, at the hazard of his life, set out for Bel- 
mont with a splendid train, and attended by a gentleman 
of the name of Gratiano. 

Bassanio proving successful in his suit, Portia in a short 
time consented to accept of him for a husband. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 107 


Bassanio confessed to Portia that he had no fortune, 
and that his high birth and noble ancestry was all that he 
could boast of ; she, who loved him for his worthy qualities, 
and had riches enough not to regard wealth in a husband, 
answered with a graceful modesty, that she would wish 
herself a thousand times more fair, and ten thousand 
times more rich, to be more worthy of him ; and then the 
accomplished Portia prettily dispraised herself, and said 
she was an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised, yet 
not so old but that she could learn, and that she would 
commit her gentle spirit to be directed and governed by 
him in all things; and she said, “Myself and what is 
mine, to you and yours is now converted. But yesterday, 
Bassanio, I was the lady of this fair mansion, queen of 
myself, and mistress over these servants ; and now this 
house, these servants, and myself, are yours, my lord ; I 
give them with this ring : ” presenting a ring to Bassanio. 

Bassanio was so overpowered with gratitude and 
wonder at the gracious manner in which the rich and 
noble Portia accepted of a man of his humble fortunes, 
that he could not express his joy and reverence to the dear 
lady who so honored him, by anything but broken words 
of love and thankfulness ; and taking the ring, he vowed 
never to part with it. 

Gratiano, and Nerissa, Portia’s waiting-maid, were in 
attendance upon their lord and lady when Portia so grace- 
fully promised to become the obedient wife of Bassanio ; 
and Gratiano, wishing Bassanio and the generous lady 
joy, desired permission to be married at the same time. 

“With all my heart, Gratiano,” said Bassanio, “ if 
you can get a wife.” 


108 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Gratiano then said that he loved the lady Portia’s fair 
waiting gentlewoman, Nerissa,and that she had promised 
to be his wife, if her lady married Bassanio. Portia asked 
Nerissa if this was true. Nerissa replied, “ Madam, it is 
so, if you approve of it.” Portia willingly consenting, 
Bassanio pleasantly said, “ Then our wedding feast shall 
be much honored by your marriage, Gratiano.” 

The happiness of these lovers was sadly crossed at this 
moment by the entrance of a messenger, who brought a 
letter from Antonio containing fearful tidings. When 
Bassanio read Antonio’s letter, Portia feared it was to tell 
him Of the death of some dear friend, he looked so pale ; 
and inquiring what was the news which had so distressed 
him, he said, “ O sweet Portia, here are a few of the un- 
pleasantest words that ever blotted paper . gentle lady, 
when I first imparted my love to you, I freely told you all 
the wealth I had ran in my veins ; but I should have told 
you that I had less than nothing, being in debt.” Bassa- 
nio then told Portia what has been here related, of his 
borrowing the money of Antonio, and of Antonio’s pro- 
curing it of Shylock the Jew, and of the bond by which 
Antonio had engaged to forfeit a pound of flesh, if it was 
not repaid by a certain day; and then Bassanio read An- 
tonio’s letter; the words of which were, “ Sweet Bassa- 
nio , my ships are all lost , my bond to the Jew is for 
feited , and since in paying it is impossible I should 
live, I could wish to see you at my death ; notwithstand- 
ing, use your pleasure ; if your love forme do not per- 
suade you to come let not my letter.” “Oh my dear 
love,” said Portia, “despatch the business and be gone; 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 109 


you shall have gold to pay the money twenty times over, 
before this kind friend shall lose a hair by my Bassanio’s 
fault ; and as you are so dearly bought, I will dearly love 



shylock: “i’ll have my bond.” 

you.” Portia then said she would be married to Bassanio 
before he set out, to give him a legal right to her money ; 
and that same day they were married, and Gratiano was 




110 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


also married to Nerissa ; and Bassanio and Gratiano, the 
instant they were married, set out in great haste fcr Ven- 
ice, where Bassanio found Antonio in prison. 

The day of payment being past, the cruel Jew would 
not accept of the money which Bassanio offered him, but 
insisted upon having a pound of Antonio’s flesh. A day 
was appointed to try this shocking cause before the duke 
of Venice, and Bassanio awaited in dreadful suspense the 
event of the trial. 

When Portia parted with her husband, she spoke 
cheeringly to him, and bade him bring his dear friend 
along with him when he returned ; yet she feared it would 
go hard with Antonio, and when she was left alone, she 
began to think and consider within herself, if she could by 
any means be instrumental in saving the life of her dear 
Bassanio’s friend ; and notwithstanding, when she wished 
to honor her Bassanio, she had said to him with such a 
meek and wife-like grace, that she would submit in all 
things to be governed by his superior wisdom, yet being 
now called forth into action by the peril of her honored 
husband’s friend, she did nothing doubt her own powers, 
and by the sole guidance of her own true and perfect judg- 
ment, at once resolved to go herself to V enice, and speak 
in Antonio’s defence. 

Portia had a relation who was a counsellor in the law ; 
to this gentleman, whose name was Bellario, she wrote, 
and stating the case to him, desired his opinion, and that 
with his advice he would also send her the dress worn by 
a counsellor. When the messenger returned, he brought 
letters from Bellario of advice how to proceed, and also 
everything necessary for her equipment. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Ill 


Portia dressed herself and her maid Nerissa in men’s 
apparel, and putting* on the robes of a counsellor, she took 
Nerissa along* with her as her clerk ; and setting out im- 
mediately, they arrived at Venice on the very day of the 
trial. The cause was just going to he heard before the 
duke and senators of Venice in the senate-house, when 
Portia entered this high court of justice, and presented a 
letter from Bellario, in which that learned counsellor wrote 
to the duke, saying he would have come himself to plead 
for Antonio, but that he was prevented by sickness, and 
he requested that the learned young doctor Balthasar (so 
he called Portia) might be permitted to pleaa in his stead. 
This the duke granted, much wondering at the youthful 
appearance of the stranger, who was prettily disguised 
by her counsellor’s robes and her large wig. 

And now began this important trial. Portia looked 
around her, and she saw the merciless Jew, and she saw 
Bassanio, but he knew her not in her disguise. He was 
standing beside Antonio, in an agony of distress and fear 
for his friend. 

The importance of the arduous task Portia had en- 
gaged in gave this tender lady courage, and she boldly 
proceeded in the duty she had undertaken to perform ; and 
first of all she addressed herself to Shy lock ; and allowing 
that he had a right by the Venetian law to have the for- 
feit expressed in the bond, she spoke so sweetly of the 
noble quality of mercy as would have softened any heart 
but the unfeeling Shylock’s ; saying, that it dropped as the 
gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath ; and how 
mercy was a double blessing, it blessed him that gave, 
and him that received it ; and how it became monarchs 


112 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


better than their crowns, being an attribute of God him- 
self ; and that earthly power came nearest to God’s in 
proportion as mercy tempered justice : and she bid Shy- 
lock remember that as we all pray for mercy, that same 
prayer should teach us to show mercy. Shylock only 
answered her by desiring to have the penalty forfeited in 
the bond. “Is he not able to pay the money?” asked 
Portia. Bassanio then offered the Jew the payment of 
three thousand ducats as many times over as he should 
desire; which Shylock refusing, and still insisting upon 
Antonio’s flesh, Bassanio begged the learned young 
counsellor would endeavor to wrest the law a little, to 
save Antonio’s life. But Portia gravely answered, that 
laws once established must never be altered. Shylock 
hearing Portia say that the law might not be altered, it 
seemed to him that she was pleading in his favor, and he 
said, “A Daniel is come to judgment! O wise young 
judge, how I do honor you ! How much elder are you 
than your looks I ” 

Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the bond ; 
and when she had read it, she said, “ This bond is forfeited, 
and by this the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh, 
to be by him cut off nearest Antonio’s heart.” Then 
she said to Shylock, “ Be merciful ; take the money, and 
bid me tear the bond.” But no mercy would the cruel 
Shylock show : and he said, “ By my soul I swear there 
is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.” “ Why 
then, Antonio,” said Portia, “you must prepare your 
bosom for the knife ; ” and while Shylock was sharpening 
a long knife with great eagerness to cut off the pound of 
flesh, Portia said to Antonio, “Have you anything to 




114 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


say ? ” Antonio with a calm resignation replied, that he 
had but little to say, for that he had prepared his mind 
for death. Then he said to Bassanio, “ Give me your 
hand, Bassanio ! Fare you well ! Grieve not that I am 
fallen into this misfortune for you. Commend me to your 
honorable wife, and tell her how I have loved you ! ” 
Bassanio in the deepest affliction replied, “Antonio, I 
am married to a wife who is as dear to me as life itself ; 
but life itself, my wife, and all the world, are not esteemed 
with me above your life : I would lose all, I would sacri- 
fice all to this devil here, to deliver you.” 

Portia hearing this, though the kind-hearted lady 
was not at all offended with her husband for expressing 
the love he owed to so true a friend as Antonio in these 
strong terms, yet could not help answering, “Your wife 
would give you little thanks if she were present to hear 
you make this offer.” And then Gratiano, who loved to 
copy what his lord did, thought he must make a speech 
like Bassanio’s, and he said, in Nerissa’s hearing, who was 
writing in her clerk’s dress by the side of Portia, “ I have 
a wife, whom I protest I love ; I wish she were in heaven, 
if she could but entreat some power there to change the 
cruel temper of this currish Jew.” “ It is well you wish 
this behind her back, else you would have but an unquiet 
house,” said Nerissa. 

Shy lock now cried out impatiently, “We trifle time; 
I pray pronounce the sentence.” And now all was awful 
expectation in the court, and every heart was full of grief 
for Antonio. 

Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the flesh ; 
and she said to the Jew, “ Shy lock, you must have some 



PORTIA AND THE BOND, 


115 



116 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


surgeon by, lest he bleed to death.’ ’ Shy lock, whose 
whole intent was that Antonio should bleed to death, said, 
“ It is not so named in the bond.” Portia replied, “ It is 
not so named in the bond, but what of that ? It were 
good you did so much for charity.” To this all the 
answer Sliylock would make was, “ I cannot find it; it is 
not in the bond.” “Then,” said Portia, “a pound of 
Antonio’s flesh is thine. The law allows it and the court 
awards it. And you may cut this flesh from off his 
breast. The law allows it, and the court awards it.” 
Again Shylock exclaimed, “O wise and upright judge! 
A Daniel is come to judgment ! ” And then he sharpened 
his long knife again, and looking eagerly on Antonio, he 
said, “ Come, prepare ! ” 

“ Tarry a little, Jew,” said Portia ; “ there is something 
else. This bond here gives you no drop of blood; the 
words expressly are, * a pound of flesh.’ If in the cutting 
off the pound of flesh you shed one drop of Christian 
blood, your land and goods are by the law to be confis- 
cated to the state of Venice.” Now as it was utterly im- 
possible for Shylock to cut off the pound of flesh without 
shedding some of Antonio’s blood, this wise discovery of 
Portia’s, that it was flesh and not blood that was named 
in the bond, saved the life of Antonio; and all admiring 
the wonderful sagacity of the young counsellor who had 
so happily thought of this expedient, plaudits resounded 
from every part of the senate-house ; and Gratiano ex- 
claimed, in the words which Shylock had used, “ O wise 
and upright judge ! mark, Jew, a Daniel is come to judg- 
ment ! ” 

Shylock, finding himself defeated in his cruel intent. 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 117 


said with a disappointed look, that he would take the 
money ; and Bassanio, rejoiced beyond measure at An- 
tonio’s unexpected deliverance, cried out. “Here is the 
money!” But Portia stopped him, saying’, “Softly; 
there is no haste; the Jew shall have nothing’ but the 
penalty : therefore prepare, Shylock, to cut off the flesh ; 
but mind you shed no blood ; nor do not cut off more nor 
less than just a pound ; be it more or less by one poor 
scruple, nay, if the scale turn but by the weight of a sin- 
gle hair, you are condemned by the laws of Venice to die, 
and all your wealth is forfeited to the senate.” “Give 
me my money, and let me go,” said Shylock. “ I have it 
ready,” said Bassanio : “here it is.” 

Shylock was going to take the money, when Portia 
again stopped him, saying, “ Tarry, Jew; I have yet an- 
other hold upon you. By the laws of Venice, your wealth 
is forfeited to the state, for having conspired against the 
life of one of its citizens, and your life lies at the mercy of 
the duke; therefore down on your knees, and ask him to 
pardon you.” 

The duke then said to Shylock, “ That you may see 
the difference of our Christian spirit, I pardon you your 
life before you ask it ; half your wealth belongs to Anto- 
nio, the other half comes to the state.” 

The generous Antonio then said that he would give 
up his share of Shylock’s wealth, if Shylock would sign a 
deed to make it over at his death to his daughter and her 
husband ; for Antonio knew that the Jew had an only 
daughter, who had lately married against his consent to 
a young Christian, named Lorenzo, a friend of Ante- 


118 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


nio’s, which had so offended Shylock that he had disin* 
herited her. 

The Jew agreed to this : and being thus disappointed 
in his revenge, and despoiled of his riches, he said, “ I am 
ill. Let me go home : send the deed after me, and I will 
sign over half my riches to my daughter.” “ Get thee 
gone then,” said the duke, “ and sign it ; and if you re- 
pent your cruelty and turn Christian, the state will for- 
give you the fine of the other half of your riches.” 

The duke now released Antonio, and dismissed the 
court. He then highly praised the wisdom and ingenuity 
of the young counsellor, and invited him homo to dinner. 
Portia, who meant to return to Belmont before her hus- 
band, replied, “ I humbly thank your grace, but I must 
away directly.” The duke said he was sorry he had not 
leisure to stay and dine with him ; and turning to Anto- 
nio, he added, “ Reward this gentleman ; for in my mind 
you are much indebted to him.” 

The duke and his senators left the court; and then 
Bassanio said to Portia, “ Most worthy gentleman, I and 
my friend Antonio have by your wisdom been this day 
acquitted of grievous penalties, and I beg you will accept 
of three thousand ducats due unto the Jew.” “ And we 
shall stand indebted to you over and above,” said Anto- 
nio, “ in love and service evermore.” 

Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the 
money ; but upon Bassanio still pressing her to accept of 
some reward, she said, *■' Give me your gloves; I will 
wear them for your sake ; ” and then Bassanio taking off 
his gloves, she espied the ring which she had given him 
upon his finger ; now it was the ring the wily lady wanted 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 119 


to get from him, to make a merry jest when she saw Bas- 
sanio again, that made her ask him for his gloves ; and 
she said, when she saw the ring, “ And for your love I 
will take this ring from you.” Bassanio was sadly dis- 
tressed that the counsellor should ask him for the only 
thing he could not part with, and he replied in great con- 
fusion, that he could not give him that ring, because it was 
his wife’s gift, and he had vowed never to part with it ; 
but that he would give him the most valuable ring in 
Venice, and find it out by proclamation. On this Portia 
affected to be affronted, and left the court, saying, ‘‘You 
teach me, sir, how a beggar should be answered.” 

“ Dear Bassanio,” said Antonio, “ let him have the 
ring ; let my love and the great service he has done for 
me be valued against your wife's displeasure.” Bassanio, 
ashamed to appear so ungrateful, yielded, and sent Gra- 
tiano after Portia with the ring; and then the clerk 
Nerissa, who had also given Gratiano a ring, she begged 
his ring, and Gratiano (not choosing to be outdone in 
generosity by his lord) gave it to her. And there was 
laughing among these ladies, to think, when they got 
home, how they would tax their husbands with giving 
away their rings, and swear that they had given them as 
a present to some woman. 

Portia, when she returned, was in that happy temper 
of mind which never fails to attend the consciousness of 
having performed a good action ; her cheerful spirit en- 
joyed every thing she saw : the moon never seemed to 
shine so bright before ; and when that pleasant moon was 
hid behind a cloud, then a light which she saw from her 
house at Belmont as well pleased her charmed fancy, and 


120 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


slie said to Nerissa, “ That light we see is burning in my 
hall : how far that little candle throws its beams, so shines 
a good deed in a naughty world : ” and hearing the sound 
of music from her house, she said, “ Methinks that music 
sounds much sweeter than by day.” 

And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house, and 
dressing themselves in their own apparel they awaited 
the arrival of their husbands, who soon followed them 
with Antonio; and Bassanio presenting his dear friend 
to the lady Portia, the congratulations and welcomings 
of that lady were hardly over when they perceived Nerissa 
and her husband quarrelling in a corner of the room. 
“ A quarrel already ? ” said Portia. “ What is the mat- 
ter ? ” Gratiano replied, “ Lady, it is about a paltry gilt 
ring that Nerissa gave me, with words upon it like 
the poetry on a cutler’s knife : Love me and leave me 
not.” 

“ What does the poetry or the value of the ring sig- 
nify ? ” said Nerissa. “ You swore to me when I gave it 
to you, that you would keep it till the hour of death ; and 
now you say you gave it to the lawyer’s clerk. I know 
you gave it to a woman.” “ By this hand,” replied 
Gratiano, “ I gave it to a youth, a kind of boy, a little 
scrubbed boy no higher than yourself ; he was clerk to the 
young counsellor that by his wise pleading saved An- 
tonio’s life : this prating boy begged it for a fee, and I 
could not for my life deny him.” Portia said, “ You 
were to blame, Gratiano, to part with your wife’s first 
gift. I gave my Lord Bassanio a ring, ana I am sure he 
would not part with it for all the world.” Gratiano in 
excuse for his fault now said, “ My Lord Bassanio gave 


THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 121 


his ring away to the counsellor, and then the boy, his 
clerk, that took some pains in writing, he begged my 
ring.” 

Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry, and re- 
proached Bassanio for giving away her ring ; and she said 
Nerissa had taught her what to believe, and that she 
knew some woman had the ring. Bassanio was very un- 
happy to havq so offended his dear lady, and he said with 
great earnestness, “No, by my honor, no woman had it, 
but a civil doctor, who refused three thousand ducats of 
me and beggedthe ring, which when I denied him he went 
displeased away. What could Ido, sweet Portia ? I was 
so beset with shame for my seeming ingratitude, that I 
was forced to send the ring after him. Pardon me, good 
lady, had you been there, I think you would have begged 
the ring of me to give the worthy doctor.” 

“Ah,” said Antonio, “I am the unhappy cause of 
these quarrels.” 

Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that, for that he was 
welcome notwithstanding; and then Antonio said, “I once 
did lend my body for Bassanio’s sake ; and but for him to 
whom your husband gave the ring, I should have now 
been dead. I dare be bound again, my soul upon the 
forfeit, your lord will never more break his faith with 
you “Then you shall be his surety,” said Portia; 
“ give him this ring, and bid him keep it better than the 
other.” 

When Bassanio looked at this ring he was strangely 
surprised to find it was the same he gave way ; and then 
Portia told him how she was the young counsellor, and 
Nerissa was her clerk ; and Bassanio found, to his un- 


122 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


speakable wonder and delight, that it was by the noble 
courage and wisdom of his wife that Antonio’s life was 
saved. 

And Portia again welcomed Antonio, and gave him 
letters which by some chance had fallen into her hands, 
which contained an account of Antonio’s ships, that 
were supposed lost, being safely arrived in the harbor. 
So these tragical beginnings of this rich merchant’s story 
were all forgotten in the unexpected good fortune which 
ensued ; and there was leisure to laugh at the comical ad- 
venture of the rings, and the husbands did not know their 
own wives : Gratiano merrily swearing in a sort of rhym- 
ing speech that 

-while he lived, he’d fear no other thing 

So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. 



nerissa’s ring, 


123 






124 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 


ERTRUDE, queen of Denmark, becoming a widow by 



V_T the sudden death of King Hamlet, in less than two 
months after his death married his brother Claudius, 
which was noted bj r all the people at the time for a strange 
act of indiscretion or unfeelingness, or worse : for this 
Claudius did noways resemble her late husband in the 
qualities of his person or his mind, but was as contempt- 
ible in outward appearance as he was base and unworthy 
in disposition ; and suspicions did not fail to arise in the 
minds of some that he had privately made away with 
his brother, the late king, with a view of marrying his 
widow, and ascending the throne of Denmark, to the ex- 
clusion of young Hamlet, the son of the buried king, and 
lawful successor to the throne. 

But upon no one did this unadvised action of the queen 
make such impression as upon this young prince, w’ho 
loved and venerated the memory of his dead father almost 
to idolatry ; and being of a nice sense of honor, and a 
most exquisite practicer of propriety himself, did sorely 
take to heart this unworthy conduct of his mother Ger- 
trude : insomuch that between grief for his father’s death 
and shame for his mother’s marriage, this young prince 
was overclouded with a deep melancholy, and lost all his 
mirth and all his good looks ; all his customary pleasure 
in books forsook him, his princely exercises and sports, 



HAMLET AND HIS MOTHEB. 


125 



126 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 

proper to his youth, were no longer acceptable ; he grew 
weary of the world, which seemed to him an unweeded 
garden, where all the wholesome flowers were choked up, 
and nothing but weeds could thrive. Not that the pros- 
pect of exclusion from the throne, his lawful inheritance, 
weighed so much upon his spirits, though that to a young 
and high-minded prince was a bitter wound and a sore in- 
dignity ; but what so galled him, and took away all his 
cheerful spirits was that his mother had shown herself so 
forgetful to his father’s memory : and such a father ! who 
had been to her so loving and gentle a husband ! and then 
she always appeared as loving and obedient a wife to 
him, and would hang upon him as if her affection grew to 
him : and now within two months, or, as it seemed to 
young Hamlet, less than two months, she had married 
again, married his uncle, her dead husband’s brother, in 
itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage, from the 
nearness of relationship, but made much more so by the 
indecent haste with which it was concluded, and the un- 
kingly character of the man whom she had chosen to be 
the partner of her throne and bed. This it was which, 
more than the loss of ten kingdoms, dashed the spirits, 
and brought a cloud over the mind of this honorable 
young prince. 

In vain was all that his mother Gertrude or the king 
could do or contrive to divert him; he still appeared in 
court in a suit of deep black, as mourning for the king 
his father’s death, which mode of dress he had never laid 
aside, not even in compliment to his mother on the day 
she was married, nor could he be brought to join in any 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 127 


of the festivities or rejoicings of that (as appeared to him) 
disgraceful day. 

What mostly troubled him was an uncertainty about 
the manner of his father’s death. It was given out by 
Claudius that a serpent had stung him ; but young Ham- 
let had shrewd suspicions that Claudius himself was the 
serpent ; in plain English, that he had murdered him for 
his crown, and that the serpent who stung his father did 
now sit on his throne. 

How far he was right in this conjecture, and what he 
ought to think of his mother — how far she was privy to 
this murder, and whether by her consent or knowledge, 
or without, it came to pass — were the doubts which con- 
tinually harassed and distracted him. 

A rumor had reached the ear of young Hamlet that an 
apparition exactly resembling the dead king his father 
had been seen by the soldiers upon watch, on the platform 
before the palace at midnight, for two or three nights 
successively. The figure came constantly clad in the 
same suit of armor, from head to foot, which the dead 
king was known to have worn : and they who saw it 
(Hamlet’s bosom-friend Horatio was one) agreed in their 
testimony as to the manner and time of its appearance : 
that it came just as the clock struck twelve ; that it 
looked pale, with a face more of sorrow than of anger ; 
that its beard was grislj r , and the color a sable silvered , 
as they had seen it in his lifetime; that it made no 
answer when they spoke to it, yet once they thought it 
lifted up its head and addressed itself to motion as if it 
were about to speak ; but in that moment the morning 


128 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE 


cock crew and it shrunk in haste away, and vanished out 
of their sight. 

The young prince, strangely amazed at their relation, 



HORATIO AND THE GHOST. 

which was too consistent and agreeing with itself to dis- 
believe, concluded that it was his father’s ghost which 
they had seen, and determined to take his watch with the 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 129 


soldiers that night, that he might have a chance of seeing 
it : for he reasoned with himself that such an appearance 
did not come for nothing, but that the ghost had some- 
thing to impart, and though it had been silent hitherto, 
yet it would speak to him. And he waited with im- 
patience for the coming of night. 

When night came he took his stand with Horatio and 
•Marcellus, one of the guard, upon the platform, where 
this apparition was accustomed to walk : and it being a 
cold night and the air unusually raw and nipping, Hamlet 
and Horatio and their companion fell into some talk about 
the coldness of the night, which was suddenly broken off 
by Horatio announcing that the ghost was coming. 

At the sight of his father’s spirit Hamlet was struck 
with a sudden surprise and fear. He at first called upon 
the angels and heavenly ministers to defend them, for he 
knew not whether it was a good spirit or bad ; whether it 
came for good or for evil, but he gradually assumed more 
courage : and his father (as it seemed to him) looked upon 
him so piteously, and as it were desiring to have conversa- 
tion with him, and did in all respects appear so like him- 
self as he was when he lived, that Hamlet could not help 
addressing him : he called him by his name Hamlet, 
king, father ! and conjured him that he would tell the 
reason why he had left his grave, where they had seen 
him quietly bestowed, to come again and visit the earth 
and the moonlight : and besought him that he would let 
them know if there was anything which they could do to 
give peace to his spirit. And the ghost beckoned to Ham- 
let that he should go with him to some more removed 


130 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


place, where they might be alone : and Horatio and Mar- 
cellus would have dissuaded the young’ prince from follow- 
ing’ it, for they feared lest it should be some evil spirit, 
who would tempt him to the neighboring sea, or to the 
top of some dreadful cliff, and there put on some horrible 
shape which might deprive the prince of his reason. But 
their counsels and entreaties could not alter Hamlet’s de- 
termination, who cared too little about life to fear the 
losing of it; and as to his soul, he said, what could the 
spirit do to that, being a thing immortal as itself ? And 
he felt as hardy as a lion ; and bursting from them, who 
did all they could to hold him, he followed whithersoever 
the spirit led him. 

And when they were alone together the spirit broke 
silence and told him that he was the ghost of Hamlet, his 
father, who had been cruelly murdered, and he told the 
manner of it ; that it -was done by his own brother Clau- 
dius, Hamlet’s uncle, as Hamlet had already but too much 
suspected, for the hope of succeeding to his bed and 
crown. That as he was sleeping in his garden, his cus- 
tom always in the afternoon, this treasonous brother stole 
upon him in his sleep, and poured the juice of poisonous 
henbane into his ears, which has such an antipathy to the 
life of man, that swift as quicksilver it courses through 
all the veins of the body, baking up the blood, and spread- 
ing a crust-like leprosy all over the skin : thus sleeping, 
by a brother’s hand he was cut off at once from his crown, 
his queen and his life : and he adjured Hamlet, if he did 
ever his dear father love, that he would revenge his foul 
murder. And the ghost lamented to his son, that his 
mother should so fall off from virtue as to prove false to 



HAMLET SEES HIS FATHER’S GHOST. 131 









132 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


the wedded love of her first husband and to- marry his 
murderer : but he cautioned Hamlet, howsoever he pro- 
ceeded in his revenge against his wicked uncle, by no 
means to act any violence against the person of his 
mother, but to leave her to Heaven, and to the stings and 
thorns of conscience. And Hamlet promised to observe 
the ghost’s direction in all things, and the ghost van- 
ished. 

And when Hamlet was left alone, he took up a solemn 
resolution that all he had in his memory, all that he had 
ever learned by books or observation should be instantly 
forgotten by him, and nothing live in his brain but the 
memory of what the ghost had told him, and enjoined him 
to do. And Hamlet related the particulars of the conver- 
sation which had passed to none but his dear friend 
Horatio ; and he enjoined both to him and Marcellus the 
strictest secrecy as to what they had seen that night. 

The terror which the sight of the ghost had left upon 
the senses of Hamlet, he being weak and dispirited before, 
almost unhinged his mind, and drove him beside his rea- 
son. And he, fearing that it would continue to have this 
effect, which might subject him to observation and set 
his uncle upon his guard, if he suspected that he was 
meditating anything against him, or that Hamlet really 
knew more of his father’s death than he professed, took 
up a strange resolution, from that time to counterfeit as 
if he were really and truly mad ; thinking that he would 
be less an object of suspicion when his uncle should believe 
him incapable of any serious project, and that his real 
perturbation of mind would be best covered and pass con- 
cealed under a disguise of pretended lunacy. 



father and uncle. 133 





■*34 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


From this time Hamlet affected a certain wildness and 
strangeness in his apparel, his speech and behavior, and 
’did so excellently counterfeit the madman, that the king 
and queen were both deceived, and not thinking his grief 
tor his father’s death a sufficient cause to produce such a 
distemper, for they knew not of the appearance of the 
ghost, they concluded that his malady was love, and they 
“thought they had found out the object. 

Before Hamlet fell into the melancholy way which has 
b^en reiated, he had dearly loved a fair maid called 
Ophelia, the daughter of Polonius, the king’s chief coun- 
sellor in affairs of state. He had sent her letters and 
rings, and made many tenders of his affection to her, and 
importuned her with love in honorable fashion ; and she 
had given behef to his vows and importunities. But the 
melancholy which he fell into latterly had made him 
neglect her, and f^om the time he conceived the project of 
counterfeiting madness, he affected to treat her with un- 
kindness and a sort of rudeness ; but she, good lady, 
rather than reproach him with being false to her, per- 
suaded herself that it waa nothing but the disease in his 
mind, and no settled unkind^ess, which had made him less 
observant of her than formerly ; and she compared the 
faculties of his once noble mind and excellent understand- 
ing, impaired as they were with the deep melancholy that 
oppressed him, to sweet bells which in themselves are capa- 
ble of most excellent music, but when jangled out of tune 
or rudely handled, produce only a harsh and unpleasing 
sound. 

Though the rough business which Hamlet haa in hana. 
the revenging of his father’s death upon his murd^re^,di^ 



HAMLET AND OPHELIA. 






























136 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


not suit with the playful state of courtship, or admit of the 
society of so idle a passion as love now seemed to him, yet 
it could not hinder hut that soft thoughts of his Ophelia 
would come between ; and in one of these moments, when 
he thought that his treatment of this gentle lady had 
been unreasonably harsh, he wrote her a letter full of wild 
starts of passion and extravagant terms, such as agreed 
with his supposed madness, but mixed with some gentle 
touches of affection, which could not but show to this hon- 
ored lady that a deep love for her yet lay at the bottom of 
his heart. He bade her to doubt the stars were fire, and 
to doubt that the sun did move, to doubt truth to be a liar, 
but never tc doubt that he loved ; with more of such ex- 
travagant phrases. This letter Ophelia dutifully showed 
to her father, and the old man thought himself bound to 
communicate it to the king and queen, who from that time 
supposed that the true cause of Hamlet’s madness was 
love. And the queen wished that the good beauties of 
Ophelia might be the happy cause of his wildness, for so 
she hoped that her virtues might happily restore him to 
his accustomed way again, to both their honors. 

But Hamlet’s malady lay deeper than she supposed, or 
than could be so cured. His father’s ghost, which he had 
seen, still haunted his imagination, and the sacred injunc- 
tion to revenge his murder gave him no rest till it was ac- 
complished. Every hour of delay seemed to him a sin, and 
a violation of his father’s commands. Yet how to compass 
the death of the kthg, surrounded as he constantly was 
with his guards, was no easy matter. Or if it had been, 
the presence of the queen, Hamlet’s mother, who was 
generally with the king, was a restraint upon his purpose, 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 137 


which he could not break through. Besides, the very cir- 
cumstance that the usurper was his mother’s husband, 
filled him with some remorse, and still blunted the edge 
of his purpose. The mere act of putting a fellow-creature 
to death was in itself odious and terrible to a disposition 
naturally so gentle as Hamlet’s was. His very melan- 
choly, and the dejection of spirits he had so long been in, 
produced an irresoluteness and wavering of purpose, which 
kept him from proceeding to extremities. Moreover, he 
could not help having some scruples upon his mind, 
whether the spirit which he had seen was indeed his father, 
or whether it might not be the devil, who he had heard 
has power to take any form he pleases, and who might 
have assumed his father’s shape only to take advantage 
of his weakness and his melancholy, to drive him to the 
doing of so desperate an act as murder. And he deter- 
mined that he would have more certain grounds to go 
upon than a vision or apparition, which might be a de- 
lusion. 

While he was in this irresolute mind, there came to the 
court certain players, in whom Hamlet formerly used to 
take delight, and particularly to hear one of them speak 
a tragical speech, describing the death of old Priam, king 
of Troy, with the grief of Hecuba, his queen. Hamlet 
welcomed his old friends the players, and remembering how 
that speech had formerly given him pleasure, requested the 
player to repeat it ; which he did in so lively a manner, set- 
ting forth the cruel murder of the feeble old king, with the 
destruction of his people and city by fire, and the mad grief 
of the old queen, running barefoot up and down the 
palace, with a poor clout upon that head where a crown 


138 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 

had been, and with nothing- hut a blanket upon her loins, 
snatched up in haste, where she had worn a royal robe ; 
that not only it drew tears from all that stood by, who 
thought they saw the real scene, so lively was it repre- 
sented, but even the player himself delivered it with a 
broken voice and real tears. This put Hamlet upon think- 
ing, if that player could so work himself up to passion by 
a mere fictitious speech, to weep for one that he had never 
seen, for Hecuba, that had been dead so many hundred 
years, how dull was he, who having a real motive and cue 
for passion, a real king and a dear father murdered, was 
yet so little moved, that his revenge all this while had 
seemed to have slept in dull and muddy forgetfulness ! 
And while he meditated on actors and acting, and the 
powerful effects which a good play, represented to the life, 
has upon the spectator, he remembered the instance of 
some murderer, who seeing a murder on the stage, was by 
the mere force of the scene and resemblance of circum- 
stances so affected, that on the spot he confessed the crime 
which he had committed. And he determined that these 
players should play something like the murder of his 
father before his uncle, and he would watch narrowly what 
effect it might have upon him, and from his looks he 
would be able to gather with more certainty if he were the 
murderer or not. To this effect he ordered a play to be 
prepared, to the representation of which he invited the 
king and queen. 

The story of the play was of a murder done in Vienna 
upon a duke. The duke’s name was Gonzago; his wife, 
Baptista. The play showed how one Lucianus, a near re- 
lation to the duke, poisoned him in his garden for his 



140 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


estate, and how the murderer in a short time after got the 
love of Gonzago’s wife. 

At the representation of this play, the king, who did 
not know the trap which was laid for him, was present, 
with his queen and the whole court ; Hamlet sitting at- 
tentively near him to observe his looks. The play began 
with a conversation between Gonzago and his wife in 
which the lady made many protestations of love, and of 
never marrying a second husband, if she should outlive 
Gonzago; wishing she might he accursed if ever she took 
a second husband, and adding that no woman ever did so 
hut those wicked women who kill their first husbands. 
Hamlet observed the king, his uncle, change color at this 
expression, and that it was as bad as wormw r ood both to 
him and to the queen. But when Lucianus, according to 
the story, came to poison Gonzago sleeping in the garden, 
the strong resemblance which it bore to his own wicked 
act upon the late king, his brother, whom he had poisoned 
in his garden, so struck upon the conscience of this 
usurper, that he wa s unable to sit out the rest of the play, 
but on a sudden calling for lights to his chamber, and af- 
fecting or partly feeling a sudden sickness, he abruptly 
left the theatre. The king being departed, the play was 
given over. Now Hamlet had seen enough to feel satis- 
fied that the words of the ghost were true, and no illusion : 
and in a fit of gayety, like that which comes over a man 
who suddenly has some great doubt or scruple resolved, 
he swore to Horatio, that he would take the ghost’s w r ord 
for a thousand pounds. But before he could make up his 
resolution as to what measures of revenge he should take, 
now he was certainly informed that his uncle was his 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 141 

father’s murderer, he was sent for by the queen, his 
mother, to a private conference in her closet. 

It was by desire of the king that the queen sent for 
Hamlet, that she might signify to her son how much his 
late behavior had displeased them both; and the king, 
wishing to know all that passed at that conference, and 
thinking that the too partial report of a mother might let 
slip some part of Hamlet’s words, which it might much 
import the king to know, Polonius, the old councillor of 
state, was ordered to plant himself behind the hangings in 
the queen’s closet, where he might unseen hear all that 
passed. This artifice was particularly adapted to the dis- 
position of Polonius, who was a man grown old in crooked 
maxims and policies of state, and delighted to get at the 
knowledge of matters in an indirect and cunning way. 

Hamlet being come to his mother, she began to tax him 
in the roundest way with his actions and behavior, and she 
told him that he had given great offence to his father, 
meaning the king, his uncle, whom, because he had mar- 
ried her, she called Hamlet’s father. Hamlet, sorely in- 
dignant that she should give so dear and honored a name 
as father seemed to him, to a wretch who was indeed no 
better than the murderer of his true father, with some 
sharpness replied, “ Mother, you have much offended my 
father.” The queen said that was but an idle answer. 
“As good as the question deserved,” said Hamlet. The 
queen asked him if he had forgotten who it was he was 
speaking to ? “ Alas ! ” replied Hamlet, “ I wish I could 

forget. You are the queen, your husband’s brother’s 
wife ; and you are my mother ; I wish you were not what 
you are.” “Nay, then,” said the queen, “if you show 


142 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


me so little respect, I will send those to you that can 
speak,” and was going* to send the king or Polonius to 
him. But Hamlet would not let her go, now he had her 
alone, till he had tried if his words could not bring her to 
some sense of her wicked life; and, taking her by the 
wrist, he held her fast, and made her sit down. She, af- 
frighted at his earnest manner, and fearful lest in his lu- 
nacy he should do her a mischief, cried out : and a voice 
was heard from behind the hangings, “ Help, help the 
queen F” which Hamlet hearing, and verily thinking it 
was the king himself there concealed, he drew his sword, 
and stabbed at the place where the voice came from, as he 
would have stabbed a rat that ran there, till, the voice 
ceasing, he concluded the person to be dead. But when he 
dragged forth the body, it was not the king, but Polonius, 
the old officious councillor, that had planted himself as a 
spy behind the hangings. “ O me ! ” exclaimed the queen, 
“what a rash and bloody deed you have done!” “A 
bloody deed, mother/ ’ replied Hamlet; “but not so bad 
as yours, who killed a king and married his brother.” 
Hamlet had gone too far to leave off here. He was now 
in the humor to speak plainly to his mother, and he pur- 
sued it. And though the faults of parents are to be ten- 
derly treated by their children, yet in the case of great 
crimes the son may have leave to speak even to his own 
mother with some harshness, so as that harshness is 
meant for her good, and to turn her from her wicked 
ways, and not done for the purpose of upbraiding. And 
now this virtuous prince did in moving terms represent to 
the queen the heinousness of her offence, in being so for- 
getful of the dead king, his father, as in so short a space 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 143 


of time to marry with his brother and reputed murderer ; 
such an act as, after the vows which she had sworn to her 
first husband, was enough to make all vows of women 
suspected, and all virtue to be accounted hypocrisy, wed- 
ding contracts to be less than gamesters’ oaths, and re- 
ligion to be a mockery and a mere form of words. He said 
she had done such a deed that the heavens blushed at it, 
and the earth was sick of her because of it. And he 
showed her two pictures, the one of the late king, her first 
husband, and the other of the present king, her second 
husband, and he bade her mark the difference ; what a 
grace was on the brow of his father, how like a god he 
looked ! the curls of Apollo, the forehead of Jupiter, the 
eye of Mars, and a posture like to Mercury newly alighted 
on some heaven -kissing hill ! this man had been her hus- 
band. And then he showed her whom she had got in his 
stead ; how like a blight or a mildew he looked, for so he 
had blasted his wholesome brother. And the queen was 
sore ashamed that he should so turn her eyes inward upon 
her soul, which she now saw so black and deformed. And 
he asked her how she could continue to live with this man, 
and be a wife to him, who had murdered her first hus- 
band, and got the crown by as false means as a thief. 
And just as he spoke, the ghost of his father, such as he 
was in his lifetime, and such as he had lately seen it, 
entered the room, and Hamlet, in great terror, asked what 
it would have ; and the ghost said that it came to remind 
him of the revenge he had promised, which Hamlet seemed 
to have forgot; and the ghost bade him speak to his 
mother, for the grief and terror she was in would else kill 
her. It then vanished, and was seen by none but Hamlet, 


144 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


neither could he by pointing* to where it stood, or by any 
description, make his mother perceive it, who was terribly 
frightened all this while to hear him conversing, as it seemed 
to her, with nothing; and she imputed it to the disorder 
of his mind. But Hamlet begged her not to flatter her 
wicked soul in such a manner as to think that it was his 
madness, and not her own offences, which had brought his 
father’s spirit again on the earth. And he bade her leel 
his pulse, how temperately it beat, not like a madman’s. 
And he begged of her, with tears, to confess herself to 
Heaven for what was past, and for the future to avoid the 
company of the king, and be no more as a wife to him ; 
and when she should show herself a mother to him, by 
respecting Lis father’s memory, he would ask a blessing 
of her as a son. And she promising to observe his direc- 
tions, the conference ended. 

And now Hamlet was at leisure to consider who it was 
that in his unfortunate rashness he had killed : and when 
he came to see that it was Polonius, the father of the Lady 
Ophelia, whom he so dearly loved, he drew apart the dead 
body, and, his spirits being a little quieter, he wept for 
what he had done. 

This unfortunate death of Polonius gave the king a 
pretence for sending Hamlet out of the kingdom. He 
would willingly have put him to death, fearing him as 
dangerous ; but he dreaded the people, who loved Hamlet ; 
and the queen, who, with all her faults, doted upon the 
prince her son. So this subtle king, under pretence of 
providing for Hamlet’s safety, that he might not be 
called to account for Polonius’ death, caused him to be 
conveyed on board a ship bound for England, under the 


HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 145 


care of two courtiers, by whom he despatched letters to 
the English court, which at that time was in subjection 
and paid tribute to Denmark, requiring, for special 
reasons there pretended, that Hamlet should be put to 
death as soon as he landed on English ground. Hamlet, 
suspecting some treachery, in the night-time secretly got 
at the letters, and skilfully erasing his own name, he in 
the stead of it put in the names of those two courtiers who 
had the charge of him to be put to death : then sealing 
up the letters, he put them into their place again. Soon 
after the ship was attacked by pirates, and a sea-fight 
commenced : in the course of which Hamlet, desirous to 
show his valor, with sword in hand singly boarded the 
enemy’s vessel, while his own ship, in a cowardly manner, 
bore away, and leaving him to his fate the two courtiers 
made the best of their way to England, charged with 
those letters the sense of which Hamlet had altered to 
their own deserved destruction. 

The pirates who had the prince in their power showed 
themselves gentle enemies ; and knowing whom they had 
got prisoner, in the hope that the prince might do them 
a good turn at court in recompense for any favor they 
might show him, they sat Hamlet on shore at the near- 
est port in Denmark. From that place Hamlet wrote to 
the king, acquainting him with the strange chance which 
had brought him back to his own country, and saying 
that on the next day he should present himself before his 
majesty. When he got home a sad spectacle offered itself 
the first thing to his eyes. 

This was the funeral of the young and beautiful 
Ophelia, his once dear mistress. The wits of this young 


146 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


lady had begun to turn ever since her poor father’s death. 
That he should die a violent death, and by the hands of 
the prince whom she loved, so affected this tender young 
maid, that in a little time she grew perfectly distracted, 
and would go about giving flowers away to the ladies of 
the court, and saying that they were for her father’s bur- 
ial, singing songs about love and about death, and some- 
times such as had no meaning at all, as if she had no 
memory of what happened to her. There was a willow 
which grew slanting over a brook, and reflected its leaves 
in the stream. To this brook she came one day when she 
was unwatched, with garlands she had been making, 
mixed up of daisies and nettles, flowers and weeds to- 
gether, and clambering up to hang her garland upon the 
boughs of the willow, a bough broke and precipitated this 
fair young maid, garland, and all that she had gathered, 
into the water, where her clothes bore her up for a while, 
during which she chanted scraps of old tunes, like one 
insensible to her own distress, or as if she were a creature 
natural to that element : but long it was not, before her 
garments, heavy with the wet, pulled her in frorp her 
melodious singing to a muddy and miserable death. It 
was the funeral of this fair maid which her brother Laer- 
tes was celebrating, the king and queen and whole court 
being present, when Hamlet arrived. He knew not what 
all this show imported, but stood on one side, not inclin- 
ing to interrupt the ceremony. He saw the flowers 
strewed upon her grave, as the custom was in maiden 
burials, which the queen herself threw in ; and as she 
threw them she said, “ Sweets to the sweet ! I thought 
to have decked thy bride-bed, sweet maid, not to have 





148 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE 


strewed thy grave. Thou shouldst have been my Ham- 
let’s wife.” And he heard her brother wish that violets 
might spring from her grave : and he saw him leap into 
the grave all frantic with grief, and bid the attendants 
pile mountains of earth upon him, that he might be buried 
with her. And Hamlet’s love for this fair maid came 
back to him, and he could not bear that a brother should 
show so much transport of grief, for he thought that he 
loved Ophelia better than forty thousand brothers. Then 
discovering himself, he leaped into the grave where 
Laertes was, all as frantic or more frantic than he, and 
Laertes knowing him to be Hamlet, who had been the 
cause of his father’s and his sister’s death, grappled him 
by the throat as an enemy, till the attendants parted 
them : and Hamlet, after the funeral, excused his hasty 
act in throwing himself into the grave as if to brave 
Laertes; but he said he could not bear that any one 
should seem to outgo him in grief for the death of the 
fair Ophelia. And for the time these two noble youths 
seemed reconciled. 

But out of the grief and anger of Laertes for the death 
of his father and Ophelia, the king, Hamlet’s wicked 
uncle, contrived destruction for Hamlet. He set on 
Laertes, under cove*' of peace and reconciliation, to chal- 
lenge Hamlet to a frtendly trial of skill at fencing, which 
Hamlet accepting, a day was appointed to try the match. 
At this match all the court was present, and Laertes, by 
direction of the king, prepared a poisoned weapon. Upon 
this match great wagers were laid by the courtiers, as 
both Hamlet and Laertes were known to excel at this 
sword-play; and Hamlet taking up the foils chose one, 





LAERTES AND THE KING. 


149 






150 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


not at all suspecting the treachery of Laertes, or being 
careful to examine Laertes’ weapon, who, instead of a foil 
or blunted sword, which the laws of fencing require, made 
use of one with a point, and poisoned. At first Laertes 
did but play with Hamlet, and suffered him to gain some 
advantages, which the dissembling king magnified and 
extolled beyond measure, drinking to Hamlet’s success, 
and wagering rich bets upon the issue : but after a few 
passes, Laertes, growing warm, made a deadly thrust at 
Hamlet with his poisoned weapon, and gave him a mortal 
blow. Hamlet, incensed, but not knowing the whole of 
the treachery,. in the scuffle exchanged his own innocent 
weapon lor Laertes’ deadly one, and with a thrust of 
Laertes’ own sword repaid Laertes home, who was thus 
justly caught in his own treachery. In this instant the 
queen shrieked out that she was poisoned. She had inad- 
vertently drunk out of a bowl which the king had prepared 
for Hamlet, in case that being warm in fencing he should 
call for drink ; into this the treacherous king had infused 
a deadly poison, to make sure of Hamlet if Laertes had 
failed. He had forgotten to warn the queen of the bowl, 
which she drank of, and immediately died, exclaiming 
with her last breath that she was poisoned. Hamlet, sus- 
pecting some treachery, ordered the doors to be shut, 
while he sought it out. Laertes told him to seek no 
further, for he was the traitor; and feeling his life go 
away with the wound which Hamlet had given him, he 
made confession of the treachery he had used, and how he 
had fallen a victim to it : and he told Hamlet of the en- 
venomed point, and said that Hamlet had not half an hour 
to live, for no medicine could cure him ; and begging for- 



DEATH OF HAMLET. 


151 




152 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE 


giveness of Hamlet, he died, with his last words accusing 
the king of being the contriver of the mischief. When 
Hamlet saw his end draw near, there being yet some 
venom left upon the sword, he suddenly turned upon his 
false uncle, and thrust the point of it to his heart, fulfill- 
ing the promise which he had made to his father’s spirit, 
whose injunction was now accomplished, and his foul 
murder revenged upon the murderer. Then Hamlet, 
feeling his breath fail and life departing, turned to his 
dear friend Horatio, who had been spectator of this fatal 
tragedy ; and with his dying breath requested him that 
he would live to tell his story to the world (for Horatio 
had made a motion as if he would slay himself to accom- 
pany the prince in death) ; and Horatio promised that he 
would make a true report as one that was privy to all the 
circumstances. And, thus satisfied, the noble heart of 
Hamlet cracked : and Horatio and the bystanders with 
njany tears commended the spirit of their sweet prince to 
the guardianship of angels. For Hamlet was a loving 
and a gentle prince, and greatly beloved for his many 
noble and princelike qualities ; and if he had lived would 
no doubt have proved a most royal and complete king to 
Denmark. 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 


HERE was a law in the city of Athens which gave to 



JL its citizens the power of compelling their daughters 
to marry whomsoever they pleased : for upon a daughter’s 
refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to be her 
husband, the father was empowered by this law to cause 
her to be put to death ; but as fathers do not often desire 
the death of their own daughters, even though they do 
happen to prove a little refractory, this law was seldom 
or never put in execution, though perhaps the young ladies 
of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their 
parents with the terrors of it. 

There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose 
name was Egeus, who actually did come before Theseus 
(at that time the reigning duke of Athens), to complain 
that his daughter Hermia, whom he had commanded to 
marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian 
family, refused to obey him, because she loved another 
young Athenian, named Lysander. Egeus demanded 
justice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel law might 
be put in force against his daughter. 

Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience, that 
Demetrius had formerly professed love for her dear friend 
Helena, and that Helena loved Demetrius to distraction ; 
but this honorable reason which Hermia gave for not obey- 
ing her father’s command moved not the stern Egeus. 


153 


154 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


Theseus, though a great and merciful prince, had no 
power to alter the laws of his country ; therefore he could 
only give Hermia four days to consider of it : and at the 
end of that time, if she still refused to marry Demetrius, 
she wa s to be put to death. 

When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the 
duke, she went to her lover Lysander, and told him the 
peril she was in, and that she must either give up him and 
marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four days. 

Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil 
tidings ; but recollecting that he had an aunt who lived at 
some distance from Athens, and that at the place where 
she lived the cruel law could not be put in force against 
Hermia (this law not extending be3 T ond the boundaries of 
the city), he proposed to Hermia, that she should steal 
out of her father’s house that night, and go with him 
to his aunt’s house, where he would marry her. “ I will 
meet you,” said Lysander, “ in the wood a few miles 
without the city ; in that delightful wood, where we have 
so often walked with Helena in the pleasant month of 
May.” 

To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed; and she told 
no one of her intended flight but her friend Helena. Helena 
(as maidens will do foolish things for love) very ungener- 
ously resolved to go and tell this to Demetrius, though 
she could hope no benefit from betraying her friend’s 
secret, but the poor pleasure of following her faithless 
lover to the wood; for she well knew that Demetrius 
would go thither in pursuit of Hermia. 

The wood, in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to 



LYSANDER AND HERM1A, 


155 








156 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


meet, was the favorite haunt of those little beings known 
by the name of Fairies. 

Oberon the king, and Titania the queen of the fairies, 
with all their tiny train of followers, in this wood held their 
midnight revels. 

Between this little king and queen of sprites there hap- 
pened, at this time, a sad disagreement : they never met 
by moonlight in the shady walks of this pleasant wood 
but they were quarrelling, till all their fairy elves would 
creep into acorn cups and hide themselves for fear. 

The cause of this unhappy disagreement wasTitania’s 
refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy, whose 
mother had been Titania’s friend ; and upon her death the 
fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and brought him 
up in the woods. 

The night on which the lovers were to meet in this 
wood, as Titania was walking with some of her maids of 
honor, she met Oberon attended by his train of fairy 
courtiers. 

“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the fairy 
king. The queen replied, “ What, jealous Oberon, is it 
I you ? Fairies, skip hence : I have forsworn his company.” 
“Tarry, rash fairy,” said Oberon ; “am not I thy lord ? 
Why does Titania cross her Oberon ? Give me your little 
changeling boy to be my page.” 

“ Set your heart at rest,” answered the queen ; “your 
whole fairy kingdom buys not the boy of me.” She then 
left her lord in great anger. “ Well, go your way,” said 
Oberon ; “ before the morning dawns I will torment you 
for this injury.” 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 157 


Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and privy 
councillor. 

Puck (or, as he was sometimes called, Robin Good- 



PUCK FINDS THE LITTLE PURPLE FLOWER. 

fellow) was a shrewd and knavish sprite, and used to play 
comical pranks in the neighboring villages; sometimes 
matting: into the dairies and skimming the milk; some- 



158 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


times plunging his light and airy form into the butter- 
churn, and while he was dancing his fantastic shape in the 
churn, in vain the dairymaid would labor to change her 
cream into butter : nor had the village swains any better 
success ; whenever Puck chose to play his freaks in the 
brewing copper, the ale was sure to be spoiled. When a 
few good neighbors were met to drink some comfortable 
ale together, Puck would jump into the bowl of ale in the 
likeness of a roasted crab, and when some old goody was 
going to drink, he would bob against her lips, and spill 
the ale over her withered chin ; and presently after, when 
the same old dame was gravely seating herself to tell her 
neighbors a sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip 
her three-legged stool from under her, and down toppled 
the poor old woman, and then the old gossips would hold 
their sides and laugh at her, and swear they never wasted 
a merrier hour. 

“ Come hither, Puck,” said Oberon to this little merry 
wanderer of the night ; ‘ ‘ fetch me the flower which maids 
call Love in Idleness ; the juice of that little purple 
flower laid on the eyelids of those who sleep, will make 
them, when they awake, dote on the first thing they see. 
Some of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids 
of my Titania when she is asleep ; and the first thing she 
looks upon when she opens her eyes she will fall in love 
with, even though it be a lion, or a bear, a meddling mon- 
key, or a busy ape : and before I will take this charm from 
off her sight, which I can do with another charm I know 
of, I will make her give me that boy to be my page.” 

Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly di- 
verted with this intended frolic of his master, and ran to 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 159 


seek the flower ; and while Oberon was waiting the return 
of Puck, he observed Demetrius and Helena enter the 
wood; he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena for 
following him, and after many unkind words on his part, 
and gentle expostulations from Helena, reminding him of 
his former love and professions of true faith to her, he left 
her (as he said) to the mercy of the wild beasts, and she 
ran after him as swiftly as she could. 

The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers, 
felt great compassion for Helena ; and perhaps, as Lysan- 
der said they used to walk by moonlight in this pleasant 
wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in those happy 
times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However 
that might be, when Puck returned with the little purple 
flower, Oberon said to his favorite, ‘ 4 Take a part of this 
flower : there has been a sweet Athenian lady here, who 
is in love with a disdainful youth ; if you find him sleeping, 
drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive to do 
it when she is near him, that the first thing he sees when 
he awakes may be this despised lady. You will know the 
man by the Athenian garments which he wears.” Puck 
promised to manage this matter very dexterously ; and 
then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her bower, 
where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower 
was a bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips, and sweet 
violets under a canopy of woodbine, musk-roses and eg- 
lantine. There Titania alwa3 r s slept some part of the 
night; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which, 
though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a fairy in. 

He found Titania giving orders to her fairies, how they 
were to employ themselves while she slept. “ Some of 


160 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


you,” said her majesty, “must kill cankers in the musk- 
rose buds, and some wage war with the bats for their 
leathern wings, to make my small elves coats; and some 
of you keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly 
hoots, come not near me; but first sing me to sleep.” 
Then they began to sing this song : 

“You spotted snakes with double tongue. 

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; 

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, 

Come not near our fairy queen. 

Philomel, with melody, 

Sing in your sweet lullaby, 

Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby: 

Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, 

Come our lovely lady nigh ; 

So good-night, with lullaby.” 

When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this 
pretty lullaby, they left her, to perform the important 
services she had enjoined them. Oberon then softly drew 
near his Titania, and dropped some of the love-juice on 
her eyelids, saying, 

“What thou seest when thou dost wake, 

Do it for thy true-love sake.” 

But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of 
her father’s house that night, to avoid the death she was 
doomed to for refusing to marry Demetrius. When she 
entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander waiting 
for her, to conduct her to his aunt’s house; but before 
they had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so 
fatigued, that Lysander, who was very careful of this 
dear lady, who had proved her affection for him even by 



QBERON AND TITANIA. 


161 





162 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


hazarding* her life for his sake, persuaded her to rest 
until morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down him- 
self on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell 
fast asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who seeing 
a handsome young man asleep, and perceiving that his 
clothes were made in the Athenian fashion, and that a 
pretty lady was sleeping near him, concluded that this 
must be the Athenian maid and the disdainful lover whom 
Oberon had sent him to seek ; and he naturally enough 
conjectured as they were alone together, she must be the 
first thing he would see when he awoke ; so without more 
ado, he proceeded to pour some of the juice of the little 
purple flower into his eyes. But it so fell out, that 
Helena came that way, and, instead of Hermia, was the 
first object Ly sander beheld when he opened his eyes : 
and strange to relate, so powerful was the love-charm, 
that all his love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander 
fell in love with Helena. 

Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder 
Puck committed would have been of no consequence, for 
he could not love that faithful lady too well ; but for poor 
Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm to forget his 
own true Hermia, and to run after another lady, and leave 
Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a 
sad chance indeed. 

Thus this misfortune happened. Helena, as has been 
before related, endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius 
when he ran away so rudely from her ; but she could not 
continue this unequal race long, men being always better 
runners in a long race than ladies. Helena soon lost sight 
of Demetrius ; and as she was wandering about dejected 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 1G3 


and forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was 
sleeping. “ Ah ! ” said she, “ this is Lysander lying on 
the ground : is he dead or asleep ? ” Then gently touch- 
ing him, she said, “ Good sir, if you are alive, awake.” 



LYSANDER AND HELENA. 

Upon this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm 
beginning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of 
extravagant love and admiration ; telling her, she" as 
much excelled Hermia in beaut}' as a dove does a raven, 
and that he would run through fire for her sweet sake ; 


164 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


and many more such lover-like speeches. Helena, know- 
ing* Lysander was her friend Hermia’s lover, and that he 
was solemnly engaged to marry her, was in the utmost 
rage when she heard herself addressed in this manner ; 
for she thought (as well she might) that Lysander was 
making a jest of her. “ Oh ! ” said she, “ why was I born 
to be mocked and scorned by every one ? Is it not enough, 
is it not enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet 
look or a kind word from Demetrius; but you, sir, must 
pretend in this disdainful manner to court me ? I thought, 
Lysander, you were a lord of more true gentleness.” 
Saying these words in great anger, she ran away; and 
Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own Hermia, 
who was still asleep. 

When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at find- 
ing herself alone. She wandered about the wood, not 
knowing what was become of Lysander, or which way to 
go to seek for him. In the meantime Demetrius not being 
able to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued 
with his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast 
asleep. Oberon had learnt, by some questions he had 
asked of Puck, that he had applied the love-charm to the 
wrong person ’s eyes ; and now having found the person first 
intended, he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius 
with the love-juice, and he instantly awoke ; and the first 
thing he saw being Helena, he, as Lysander had done be- 
fore, began to address love-speeches to her : and just at 
that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia (for through 
Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia’s turn 
to run after her lover), made his appearance; and then 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 165 


Lysander and Demetrius, both speaking together, made 
love to Helena, they being each one under the influence of 
the same potent charm. 

The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Ly- 
sander and her once dear friend Hermia were all in a 
plot together to make a jest of her. 

Hermia was as much surprised as Helena : she knew 
not why Lysander and Demetrius, who both before loved 
her, were now become lovers of Helena ; and to Hermia 
the matter seemed to be no jest. 

The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of 
friends, now fell to high words together. 

“Unkind Hermia,” said Helena, “ it is you have set 
Lysander on to vex me with mock praises ; and your 
other lover Demetrius, who used almost to spurn me with 
his foot, have you not bid him call me goddess, nymph, 
rare, precious and celestial ? He would not speak thus to 
me, whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a 
jest of me. Unkind Hermia, to join with men in scorning 
your poor friend. Have you forgot our school-day friend- 
ship ? How often, Hermia, have we two, sitting on one 
cushion, both singing one song, with our needles working 
the same flower, both on the same sampler wrought; 
growing up together in fashion of a double cherry, scarce- 
ly seeming parted ? Hermia, it is not friendly in you, it is 
not maidenly, to join with men in scorning your poor 
friend.” 

“ I am amazed at your passionate words,” said Her- 
mia : “ I scorn you not ; it seems you scorn me.” “ Ay, 
do,” returned Helena, “persevere, counterfeit serious 
looks, and make mouths at me when I turn my back; 


166 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


then wink at each other, and hold the sweet jest up. If 
you had any pity, grace or manners, you would not use 
me thus.” 

While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry 
words to each other, Demetrius and Lysander left them, 
to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena. 

When they found the gentlemen had left them, they 
departed, and once more wandered weary in the wood in 
search of their lovers. 

As soon as they were gone, the fairy king, who with, 
little Puck had been listening to their quarrels, said to 
him, “ This is your negligence, Puck ; or did you do this 
wilfully ? “ Believe me, king of shadows/ ’ answered Puck, 
“ it was a mistake : did not you tell me I should know the 
man by his Athenian garments ? However, I am not 
sorry this has happened, for I think their jangling makes 
me excellent sport.” “ You heard,” said Oberon, “ that 
Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek a convenient 
place to fight in. I command you to overhang the night 
with a thick fog, and lead these quarrelsome lovers so 
astray in the dark, that they shall not be able to find each 
other. Counterfeit each of their voices to the other, and 
with bitter taunts provoke them to follow you, while they 
think it is their rival's tongue they hear. See you do this, 
till they are so weary that they can go no farther ; and 
when you find they are asleep, drop the juice of this other 
flower into Ly sander’s eyes, and when he awakes he will 
forget his new love for Helena and return to his old pas- 
sion for Hermia ; and then the two fair ladies may each one 
be happy with the man she loves ; and they will think all 
that has passed a vexatious dream. About this quickly, 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 1G7 


Puck ; and I will go and see what sweet love my Titania 
has found.” 

Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon, seeing a clown 
near her, who had lost his way in the wood, and was like- 
wise asleep: “This fellow,” said he, “shall be my Ti- 
tania’s true love; ” and clapping an ass’ head over the 
clown’s, it seemed to fit him as if it had grown upon his 
own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass’ head on 
very gently, it awakened him, and rising up, unconscious 
of what Oberon had done to him, he went towards the 
bower where the fairy queen slept. 

“ Ah ! what angel is that I see ? ” said Titania, open- 
ing her eyes, and the juice of the little purple flower be- 
ginning to take effect : “ Are you as wise as you are 
beautiful ? ” 

“ Why, mistress,” said the foolish clown, “ if I have 
wit enough to find the way out of this wood, I have enough 
to serve my turn.” 

“ Out of the wood do not desire to go,” said the en- 
amoured queen. “ I am a spirit of no common rate. I 
love you. Go with me and I will give you fairies to at- 
tend upon you.” 

She then called four of her fairies: their names were 
Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed. 

“ Attend,” said the queen, “ upon this gentleman: hop 
in his walks and gambol in his sight ; feed him with 
grapes and apricots, and steal for him the honey- bags 
from the bees. Come, sit with me,” said she to the clown, 
“ and let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my 
beautiful ass ! and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle 

joy ! ” 


108 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


"Where is Pease-blossom ? ” said the ass-headed 
clown, not much regarding- the fairy-queen’s courtship, 
but very proud of his new attendants. 

“ Here, sir,” said little Pease-blossom. 

“ Scratch my head,” said the clown. “ Where is Cob- 
web ? ” 

“ Here, sir,” said Cobweb. 

“ Good Mr. Cobweb,” said the foolish clown, “ kill me 
the red humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder; and, 
good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret 
yourself too much in the action, Mr. Cobweb, and take 
care the honey -bag break not ; I should be sorry to have 
you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard- 
seed ? ” 

“ Here, sir,” said Mustard -seed; “ what is your will ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said the clown, “ good Mr. Mustard-seed, 
but to help Mr. Pease- blossom to scratch : I must go to a 
barber’s, Mr. Mustard-seed, for methinks I am marvel- 
lous hairy about the face.” 

“ My sweet love,” said the queen, “ what will you have 
to eat? I have a venturous fairy shall seek the squirrel’s 
hoard, and fetch } T ou some new nuts.” 

“ I had rather have a handful of dried pease,” said the 
clown, who with his ass’ head had got an ass’ appetite 
“ But I pray, let none of your people disturb me, for I 
have a mind to sleep.” 

“ Sleep, then,” said the queen, “ and I will wind you in 
my arms. O how I love you ! How I dote upon you ! ” 

When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the 
arms of his queen, he advanced within her sight, and re 



THE ENAMORED QtJEEN. 


169 


170 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


proached her with having lavished her favors upon an 
ass. 

This she could not deny, as the clown was then sleep- 
ing within her arms, with his ass’ head crowned by her 
with flowers. 

When Oberon had teased her for some time, he again 
demanded the changeling-boy ; which she, ashamed of 
being discovered by her lord with her new favorite, did 
not dare to refuse him. 

Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so 
long wished for to be his page, took pity on the disgraceful 
situation into which, by his merry contrivance, he had 
brought his Titania, and threw some of the juice of the 
other flower into her eyes ; and the fairy-queen imme- 
diately recovered her senses, and wondered at her late 
dotage, saying how she now loathed the sight of the 
strange monster. 

Oberon likewise took the ass’ head from off the clown 
and left him to finish his nap with his own fool’s head 
upon his shoulders. 

Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly reconciled, 
he related to her the history of the lovers and their mid- 
night quarrels ; and she agreed to go with him and see the 
end of their adventures. 

The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their 
fair ladies at no great distance from each other, sleeping 
on a grass-plot ; for Puck, to make amends for his former 
mistake, had contrived with the utmost diligence to bring 
them all to the same spot, unknown to each other ; and he 
had carefully removed the charm from off the eyes of 
Lysander with the antidote the fairy king gave to him. 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. 171 


Hermia first awoke, and finding’ her lost Lysander 
asleep so near him, was looking at him and wondering at 
his strange inconstancy. Lysander presently opening his 



PUCK AND THE FAIRIES. 

eyes and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his reason, 
which the fairy charm had before clouded, and with his 
reason, his love for Hermia ; and they began to talk over 


172 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


the adventures of the night, doubting if these things had 
really happened, or if they had both been dreaming the 
same bewildering dream. 

Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake ; and a 
sweet sleep having quieted Helena’s disturbed and angry 
spirits, she listened with delight to the professions of love 
which Demetrius still made to her, and which, to her sur- 
prise as well as pleasure, she began to perceive were sin- 
cere. 

These fair night-wandering ladies, now no longer rivals, 
became once more true friends ; all the unkind words 
which had passed were forgiven, and they calmly con- 
sulted together what was best to be done in their present 
situation. It was soon agreed that, as Demetrius had 
given up his pretensions to Hermia, he should endeavor 
to prevail upon her father to revoke the cruel sentence of 
death which had been passed against her. Demetrius was 
preparing to return to Athens for this friendly purpose, 
when they were surprised with the sight of Egeus, Her- 
mia’s father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his run- 
away daughter. 

When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not 
now marry his daughter, he no longer opposed her mar- 
riage with Ly sander, but gave his consent that they 
should be wedded on the fourth day from that time, 
being the same day on which Hermia had been con- 
demned to lose her life ; and on that same day Helena 
joyfully agreed to marry her beloved and now faithful 
Demetrius. 

The fairy king and queen, who were invisible specta- 
tors of this reconciliation, and now saw the happy ending 


A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 173 


of the lovers’ history brought about through the good 
offices of Oberon, received so much pleasure that these 
kind spirits resolved to celebrate the approaching nup- 
tials with sports and revels throughout their fairy king- 
dom. 

And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies 
and their pranks, as judging it incredible and strange, 
they have only to think that they have been asleep and 
dreaming, and that all these adventures were visions 
which they saw in their sleep : and I hope none of my 
readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a 
pretty, harmless Midsummer Night’s Dream. 


174 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


THE TEMPEST. 

T HERE was a certain island in the sea, the onty in- 
habitants of which were an old man, whose name 
was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a very beauti- 
ful young lady. She came to this island so young, that 
she had no memory of having seen any other human face 
than her father’s. 

They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock : it was 
divided into several apartments, one of which Prospero 
called his study ; there he kept his books, which chiefly 
treated of magic, a study at that time much affected by 
all learned men : and the knowledge of this art he found 
very useful to him : for being thrown by a strange chance 
upon this island, which had been enchanted by a witch 
called Sycorax, who died there a short time before his ar- 
rival, Prospero, by virtue of his art, released many good 
spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of large 
trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked 
commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient 
to the will of Prospero. Of these Ariel was the chief. 

The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous 
in his nature, except that he took rather too much pleas- 
ure in tormenting an ugly monster called Caliban, for he 
owed him a grudge because he was the son of his old 
enemy Sycorax. This Caliban Prospero found in the 
woods, a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form 
than an ape : he took him home to his cell, and taught 



I’ll deliver all ; 

And promise yon calm seas, auspicious gales, 
And sail, so expeditious, that shall catch 
Your royal fleet far off,— my Ariel chick,— 
That is thy charge; then, to the elements; 
Be free, and fare thou well ! 


PROSPERO AND HIS ENCHANTED WAND. 


176 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


him to speak ; and Prospero would have been very kind to 
him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his 
mother Sycorax would not let him learn anything- good or 
useful : therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch 



CALIBAN. 

wood, and do the most laborious offices ; and Ariel had 
the charge of compelling him to these services. 

When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel 
(who was invisible to all eyes but Prospero’s) would 
come slyly and pinch him, and sometimes tumble him 
down in the mire ; and then Ariel, in the likeness of an 



PROSPERO AND MIRANDA, 


177 




178 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing 
his shape, in the likeness of a hedgehog he would lie 
tumbling in Caliban’s way, who feared the hedgehog’s 
sharp quills would prick his hare feet. With a variety of 
such -like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him, 
whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero 
commanded him to do. 

Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, 
Prospero could by their means command the winds and 
the waves of the sea. By his orders they raised a violent 
storm, in the midst of which, and struggling with the 
wild sea- waves that every moment threatened to swallow 
it up, he showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he 
told her was full of living beings like themselves. “ O 
my dear father,” said she, “if by your art you have 
raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad distress. 
See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! 
they will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea 
beneath the earth, rather than the good ship should be 
destroyed, with all the precious souls within her.” 

“Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda,” said Pros- 
pero ; “ there is no harm done. I have so ordered it that 
no person in the ship shall receive any hurt. What I 
have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You 
are ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and 
you know no more of me but that I am your father, and 
live in this poor cave. Can you remember a time before 
you came to this cell ? I think you cannot, for you were 
not then three years of age.” 

“ Certainly I can, sir,” replied Miranda. 


THE TEMPEST. 


179 


“ By what?” asked Prospero : “ by any other house 
or person ? Tell me what you can remember, my child.” 

Miranda said, “ It seems to me like the recollection of a 
dream. But had I not once four or five women who at- 
tended upon me?” 

Prospero answered, “ You had, and more. How is it 
that this still lives in your mind ? Do you remember how 
you came here? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Miranda, “ I remember nothing more.” 

“ Twelve years ago, Miranda,” continued Prospero, 
“ I was duke of Milan, and you were a princess and my 
only heir. I had a younger brother, whose name was 
Antonio, to whom I trusted everything ; and as I was 
fond of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the 
management of my state affairs to your uncle, my false 
brother (for so indeed he proved). I, neglecting all world- 
ly ends, buried among my books, did dedicate my whole 
time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio 
being thus in possession of my power, began to think him- 
self the duke indeed. The opportunity I gave him' of 
making himself popular among my subjects awakened in 
his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my 
dukedom: this he soon effected with the aid of the king 
of Naples, a powerful prince, who was my enemy.” 

“ Wherefore,” said Miranda, “ did they not that hour 
destroy us.” 

“ My child,” answered her father, “ they durst not, so 
dear was the love that my people bore me. Antonio car- 
ried us on board a ship, and when we were some leagues 
out at sea, he forced us into a small boat, without either 
tackle, sail or mast • there he left us as he thought to 


180 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who 
loved me, had privately placed in the boat water, provi- 
sions, apparel and some books which I prize above my 
dukedom.” 

“ O my father,” said Miranda, “what a trouble must 
1 have been to you then ! ” 

“No, my love,” said Prospero, “you were a little 
cherub that did preserve me. Your innocent smiles made 
me to bear up against my misfortunes. Our food lasted 
till we landed on this desert island, since when my chief 
delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and well have 
you profited by my instructions.” 

“ Heaven thank you, my dear father,” said Miranda. 
“ Now pray tell me, sir, your reason for raising this sea- 
storm.” 

“ Know, then,” said her father, “ that by means of 
this storm my enemies, the king of Naples and my cruel 
brother, are cast ashore upon this island.” 

Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter 
with his magic wand, and she fell fast asleep : for the 
spirit Ariel just then presented himself before his master, 
to give an account of the tempest, and how he had dis- 
posed of the ship’s company ; and, though the spirits were 
always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she 
should hear him holding converse (as would seem to her) 
with the empty air. 

“ Well, my brave spirit,” said Prospero to Ariel, “ how 
have you performed your task ? ” 

Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the 
terror of the mariners ; and how the king’s son, Ferdi- 
nand, was the first who leaped into the sea, and his father 



ABANDONED TO THE ELEMENTS 



182 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


thought he saw this dear son swallowed up by the waves 
and lost. “ But he is safe,” said Ariel, “ in a corner of 
the isle, sitting with his arms folded sadly, lamenting the 
loss of the king his father, whom he concludes drowned. 
Not a hair of his head is injured, and his princely gar- 
ments, though drenched in the sea-waves, look fresher than 
before.” 

“ That’s my delicate Ariel,” said Prospero. “ Bring 
him hither : my daughter must see this young prince. 
Where is the king, and my brother ? ” 

“ I left them,” answered Ariel, “ searching for Fer- 
dinand, whom they have little hopes of finding, thinking 
they saw him perish. Of the ship’s crew not one is miss- 
ing; though each one thinks himself the only one saved : 
and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the har- 
bor.” 

“ Ariel,” said Prospero, “thy charge is faithfully per- 
formed ; but there is more work yet.” 

“ Is there more work ?” said Ariel. “ Let me remind 
you, master, you have promised me my libertj 7 . I pray, 
remember, I have done you worthy service, told you no 
lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge or 
grumbling.” 

“ How now ?” said Prospero. “ You do not recollect 
what a torment I freed you from. Have you forgotten the 
wicked witch Sycorax, who with age aud envy was almost 
bent double ? Where was she born ? Speak : tell me. ” 

“ Sir, in Algiers,” said Ariel. 

“ Oh, was she so ? ” said Prospero. “ I must recount 
what you have been, which I find you do not remember. 
This bad witch Sycorax, for her witchcrafts, too terrible 



THE TEMPEST. 183 

to enter human hearing*, was banished from Algiers, and 
here left by the sailors ; and because you were a spirit too 


“ WHAT CARE THESE ROARERS FOR THE NAME OF KING?” * 

delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up 
in a tree, where I found you howling. This torment, re- 
member, I did free you from.” 

“ Pardon me, dear master,” said Ariel, ashamed to 
seem ungrateful; “ I will obey your commands.” 


184 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


“ Do so,” said Prospero, “ and I will set you free.’’ 
He then gave orders what farther he would have him do; 
and away went Ariel, first to where he had left Ferdinand, 
and found him still sitting on the grass in the same melan- 
choly posture. 

“ O my young gentleman,” said Ariel, when he saw 
him, “I will soon move you. You must be brought, I 
find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight of your pretty 
person. Come, sir, follow me.” He then began singing : 

“ Full fathom five thy father lies : 

Of his bones are coral made : 

Those are pearls that were his eyes : 

Nothing of him that doth fade, 

But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 

Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell : 

Hark, now I hear them, ding-dong bell.” 

This strange news of his lost father soon roused the 
prince from the stupid fit into which he had fallen. He 
followed in amazement the sound of Ariel’s voice, till it led 
him to Prospero and Miranda, who were seated under the 
shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen a man 
before, except her own father. 

“Miranda,” said Prospero, “ tell me what you are look- 
ing at yonder.” 

“ O father,” said Miranda, in a strange surprise, 
“surely that is a spirit. Lord! how it looks about ! Be- 
lieve me, sir, it is a beautiful creature. Is it not a 
spirit ? ” 

“ No, girl,” answered her father; “ it eats and sleeps, 
and has senses such as we have.” This young man you see 



FERDINAND AND MIRANDA* 


185 











186 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that 
Miranda was the goddess of the place, and as such he be- 
gan to address her. 

She timidly answered, she was no goddess, but a simple 
maid, and was going to give an account of herself, when 
Prospero interrupted her. He was well pleased to find 
they admired each other, for he plainly perceived they had 
(as we say) fallen in love at first sight : but to try Ferdi- 
nand’s constancy, he resolved to throw some difficulties in 
their way ; therefore advancing forward, he addressed the 
prince with a stern air, telling him, he came to the island 
as a spy, to take it from him who was the lord of it. 
“ Follow me,” said he, “ I will tie you neck and feet to- 
gether. You shall drink sea-water; shell-fish, withered 
roots, and husks of acorns shall be your food.” “No,” 
said Ferdinand, “ I will resist such entertainment till I see 
a more powerful enemy,” and drew his sword: but Pros- 
pero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the spot where 
he stood, ®o that he had no power to move. 

Miranda hung upon her father, saying, “ Why are you 
so ungentle ? Have pity, sir ; I will be his surety. This is 
the second man I ever saw, and to me he seems a true one.” 

“ Silence,” said her father, “ one word more will 
make me chide you, girl ! What ! an advocate for an im- 
postor ! You think there are no more such fine men, 
having seen only t him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish 
girl, most men as far excel this as he does Caliban.” This 
he said to prove his daughter’s constancy ; and she re- 
plied, “ My affections are most humble. I have no wish 
to see a goodlier man.” 


THE TEMTEST. 187 

“ Come on, young man,” said Frospero to the prince, 
“you have no power to disobey me,” 

“I have not indeed,” answered Ferdinand; and not 
knowing it was by magic he was deprived of all power of 
resistance, he was astonished to find he was so strangely 
compelled to follow Prospero : looking back on Miranda as 
long as he could see her, he said, as he went after Pros- 
pero into the cave, “ My spirits are all bound up, as if I 
were in a dream ; but this man’s threats, and the weak- 
ness which I feel, would seem light to Ane if from my 
prison I might once a day behold this fair maid.” 

Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the 
cell : he soon brought out his prisoner, and set him a se- 
vere task to perform, taking care to let his daughter know 
the hard labor he had imposed on him, and then pretend- 
ing to go into his study, he secretly watched them both. 

Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some 
heavy logs of wood. Kings’ sons not being much used to 
laborious work, Miranda soon after found her lo^er almost 
dying with fatigue. “ Alas ! ” said she, “ do n^t work so 
hard; my father is at his studies; he is safe for these 
three hours ; pray rest yourself.” 

“ 0 my dear lady,” said Ferdinand, “l da*^ ndt> I 
must finish my task before I take my rest.” 

“ If you will sit down,” said Miranda, “ I will crrry 
your logs the while.” But this Ferdinand would by no 
means agree to. Instead of a help, Miranda became a 
hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so that the 
business of log carrying went on very slowly. 

Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely 
as a trial of his love, was not at his books as his d^ghte** 


188 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


supposed, but was standing by them invisible, to over- 
hear what they said. 

Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told him, say- 
> ing it was against her father’s express command she did so. 

I Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his 
daughter’s disobedience, for having by his magic art 
caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly he was not 
angry that she showed her love by forgetting to obey his 
commands. And he listened well pleased to a long speech 
of Ferdinand’s, in which he professed to love her above 
all the ladies he ever saw. 

In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said 
exceeded all the women in the world, she replied, “ I do 
not remember the face of any woman, nor have I seen any 
more men than you, my good friend, and my dear father. 
How features are abroad I know not ; but believe me, sir, 
I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor 
can my imagination form any shape but yours that I could 
like. But, sir, I fear I talk to you too freely, and my 
father’s precepts I forget.” 

At this Prospero smiled and nodded his head, as much 
as to say, “ This goes on exactly as I could wish ; my girl 
will be queen of Naples.” 

And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for 
young princes speak in courtly phrases), told the innocent 
Miranda he was heir to the crown of Naples, and that she 
should be his queen. 

“ Ah ! sir,” said she, “ I am a fool to weep at what I 
am glad of. I wall answer you in plain and holy innocence. 
I am your wife if you will marry me.” 


THE TEMPEST. 189 

Prospero prevented Ferdinand’s thanks by appearing* 
visible before them. 

“ Fear nothing, my child/’ said he ; “ I have overheard 
and approve of ail you have said. And Ferdinand, if I 
have too severely used you, I will make you rich amends 
by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were 
but my trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the 
test. Then as my gift, which your true love has worthily 
purchased, take my daughter, and do not smile that I 
boast she is above all praise.” He then, telling them that 
he had business which required his presence, desired they 
would sit down and talk together till he returned ; and 
this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to dis- 
obey. 

When Prospero left them he called his spirit Ariel, 
who quickly appeared before him, eager to relate what he 
had done with Prospero’s brother and the king of Naples. 
Ariel said he had left them almost out of their senses with 
fear at the strange things he had caused them to see and 
hear. When fatigued with wandering about and famished 
for want of food, he had suddenly set before them a deli- 
cious banquet, and then, just as they were goingto eat, 
he'appeared visible before them in the shape of a harpy, a 
voracious monster with wings, and the feast vanished 
away. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming 
harpy spoke to them, reminding them of their cruelty in 
driving Prospero from his dukedom, and leaving him and 
his infant daughter t'o perish in the sea ; saying, that for 
this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them. 

The king of Naples and Antonio the false brother re- 
pented the injustice they had done to Prospero: and Ariel 


190 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


told his master he was certain their penitence was sincere, 
and that he, though a spirit, could not but pity them. 

“Then bring them hither, Ariel,” said Prospero : “if 
you, who are but a spirit, feel for their distress, shall not 
I, who am a human being like themselves, have compas- 
sion on them ? Bring them quickly, my dainty Ariel.” 

Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio and old 
Gonzalo in their train, who had followed him wondering 
at the wild music he played in the air to draw them on to 
his master’s presence. This Gonzalo was the same who 
had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and 
provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he 
thought, to perish in an open boat in the sea. 

Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses that they 
did not know Prospero. He first discovered himself to 
the good old Gonzalo, calling him the preserver of his life : 
and then his brother and the king knew that he was the 
injured Prospero. 

Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true 
repentance, implored his brother’s forgiveness ; and the 
king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted 
Antonio to depose his brother: and Prospero forgave 
them ; and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedofn, 
he said to the king of Naples, “ I have a gift in store for 
you too and opening a door, showed him his son Ferdi- 
nand playing at chess with Miranda. 

Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son 
at this unexpected meeting, for they each thought the 
other drowned in the storm. 

“ O wonder ! ” said Miranda, “ what noble creatures 


THE TEMPEST. 191 

these are ; it must surely be a brave world that has such 
people in it.” 

The king' of Naples was almost as much astonished at 



PROSPERO AND THE KING. 

the beauty and excellent graces of the young Miranda as 
his son had been. “ Who is this maid ? ” said he ; “ she 
seems the goddess that has parted us and brought us thus 
together.” “No, sir,” answered Ferdinand, smiling to 


192 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he 
had done when he first saw Miranda, “she is a mortal, 
hut by immortal Providence she is mine ; I chose her when 
I could not ask you, my father, for your consent, not 
thinking you were alive. She is the daughter to this 
Prospero, who is the famous duke of Milan, of whose re- 
nown I have heard so much, but never saw him till now ; 
of him I have received a new life ; he has made himself to 
me a second father, giving me this dear lady.” 

“ Then I must be her father,” said the king : but oh ! 
how oddly will it sound that I must ask my child forgive- 
ness.” 

“No more of that,” said Prospero : “ let us not remem- 
ber our troubles past, since they so happily have ended.” 
And then Prospero embraced his brother, and assured 
him of his forgiveness ; and said that a wise, overruling 
Providence had permitted that he should be driven from 
his poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might in- 
herit the crown of Naples, for that by their meeting in 
this desert island, it had happened that the king’s son had 
loved Miranda. 

These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to 
comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and re- 
morse, that he wept and was unable to speak ; and the 
kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation, and 
prayed for blessings on the young couple. 

Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the 
harbor, and the sailors all on board her, and that he and 
his daughter would accompany them home the next 
morning. “ In the meantime,” said he, “ partake of such 
refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your 


THE TEMPEST. 


193 


evening’s entertainment I will relate the history of my life 
from my first landing in this desert island.” He then 
called for Caliban to prepare some food, and set the cave 
in order ; and the company were astonished at the un- 
couth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, 
who (Prospero said) was the only attendant he had to 
wait upon him. 

Before Prospero left the island, he dismissed Ariel 
from his service, to the great joy of that lively little spirit, 
who though he had been a faithful servant to his master, 
was always longing to enjoy his free liberty, to wander 
uncontrolled in the air, like a wild bird, under green trees, 
among pleasa nt fruits, and sweet- smelling flowers. “ My 
quaint Ariel,” said Prospero to the little sprite when he 
made him free, “ I shall miss you: yet you shall have 
your freedom.” “ Thank you, my dear master,” said 
Ariel ; “ but give me leave to attend your ship home with 
prosperous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance 
of your faithful spirit; and then, master, when I am free, 
how merrily I shall live ! ” Here Ariel sung this pretty 
song : 

“ Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; 

In a cowslip’s bell I lie : 

There I couch when owls do cry. 

On the bat’s back I do fly 
After summer merrily. 

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” 

Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical 
books and wand, for he was resolved never more to make 
use of the magic art. And having thus overcome his 
enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the king 


191 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. 


of Naples, nothing- now remained to complete his happi- 
ness, but to revisit his native land, to take possession of 
his dukedom, and to witness the happy nuptials of his 
daughter Miranda and Prince Ferdinand, which the king 
said should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on 
their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe 
convoy of the spirit Ariel, they after a pleasant voyage 
soon arrived. 








ALTEMUS’ 


Young People’s Library. 


Price, 50 Cents Each. 


ROBINSON CRUSOE : His Life and Strange Surprising 
Adventures. With 70 beautiful illustrations by Walter 
Paget. Arranged for young readers. 

‘‘There exists no work, either of instruction or entertainment, 
which has been more generally read, and universally admired.” 
— Walter Scott, 

ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND. With 42 
illustrations by John Tenniel. 

“ This is Carroll’s immortal story.” — Athenoeum. 

“ The most delightful of children’s stories. Elegant and deli- 
cious nonsense .” — Saturday Review. 

THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS AND WHAT 
ALICE FOUND THERE. (A companion to Alice in 
Wonderland.) With 50 illustrations by John Tenniel. 

“ Not a whit inferior to its predecessor in grand extravagance of 
imagination, and delicious allegorical nonsense.” — Quarterly 

Review . 

BUNYAN’S PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. With 50 full-page 
and text illustrations. 

Pilgrim’s Progress is the most popular story book in the 
world. With the exception of the Bible it has been translated into 
more languages than any other book ever printed. 

A CHILD’S STORY OF THE BIBLE. With 72 full-page 
illustrations. 

Tells in simple language and in a form fitted for the hands of 
the younger members of the Christian flock, the tale of God’s 
dealings with his Chosen People under the Old Dispensation, 
with its foreshadowings of the coming of that Messiah who was 
to make all mankind one fold under one Shepherd. 


2 


ALTEMUS' YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 


A CHILD’S LIFE OF CHRIST. With 49 illustrations. 

God has implanted in the infant’s heart a desire to hear of Jesus, 
and children are early attracted and sweetly riveted by the won- 
derful Story of the Master from the Manger to the Throne. 

In this little book we have brought together from Scripture every 
incident, expression and description within the verge of their com- 
prehension, in the effort to weave them into a memorial garland of 
their Saviour. 

THE FABLES OF y£SOP. Compiled from the best ac- 
cepted sources. With 62 illustrations. 

The fables of yEsop are among the very earliest compositions of 
this kind, and probably have never been surpassed for point and 
brevity, as well as for the practical good sense they display. In 
their grotesque grace, in their quaint humor, in their trust in the 
simpler virtues, in their insight into the cruder vices, in their inno- 
cence of the fact of sex, .Esop’s Fables are as little children — and 
for that reason will ever find a home in the heaven of little chil- 
dren’s souls. 

THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON, or the Adventures of 
a Shipwrecked Family on an Uninhabited Island. With 
50 illustrations. 

A remarkable tale of adventure that will interest the boys and 
girls. The father of the family tells the tale and the vicissitudes 
through which he and his wife and children pass, the wonderful 
discoveries they make, and the dangers they encounter. It is a 
standard work of adventure that has the favor of all who have 
read it. 

CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS AND THE DISCOVERY 
OF AMERICA. With 70 illustrations. 

It is the duty of every American lad to know the story of Chris- 
topher Columbus. In this book is depicted the story of his life 
and struggles ; of his persistent solicitations at the courts of Eu- 
rope, and his contemptuous receptions by the learned Geographical 
Councils, until his final employment by Queen Isabella. Records 
the day-by-day journey ings while he was pursuing his aim and his 
perilous way over the shoreless ocean, until he “gave to Spain a 
New World.” Shows his progress through Spain on the occasion 
of his first return, when he was received with rapturous demon- 
strations and more than regal homage. Hi* displacement by the 


ALTfcMVS* YOUNG PEOPLE* S LIBRARY. 


3 


Odjeas, Ovandos and Bobadilas ; his last return in chains, and the 
story of his death in poverty and neglect. 

THE STORY OF EXPLORATION AND DISCOVERY 
IN AFRICA. With 80 illustrations. 

Records the adventures, privations, sufferings, trials, dangers 
and discoveries in developing the “Dark Continent,” from the 
early days of Bruce and Mungo Park down to Livingstone and 
Stanley and the heroes of our own times. 

The reader becomes carried away by conflicting emotions of 
wonder and sympathy, and feels compelled to pursue the story, 
which he cannot lay down. No present can be more acceptable 
than such a volume as this, where courage, intrepidity, resource 
and devotion are so pleasantly mingled. It is very fully illustra- 
ted with pictures worthy of the book. 

GULLIVER’S TRAVELS INTO SOME REMOTE RE- 
GIONS OF THE WORLD. With 50 illustrations. 

In description, even of the most common-place things, his power 
is often perfectly marvellous. Macaulay says of Swift: “ Under 
a plain garb and ungainly deportment were concealed some of the 
choicest gifts that ever have been bestowed on any of the children 
of men — rare powers of observation, brilliant art, grotesque inven- 
tion, humor of the most austere flavor, yet exquisitely delicious, 
eloquence singularly pure, manly and perspicuous.’ ' 

MOTHER GOOSE’S RHYMES, JINGLES AND FAIRY 
TALES. With 300 illustrations. 

“ In this edition an excellent choice has been made from the 
standard fiction of the little ones. The abundant pictures are well- 
drawn and graceful, the effect frequently striking and always deco- 
rative .” — Critic. 

“ Only to see the book is to wish to give it to every child one 
knows. ’ ’ — Queen. 

LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS OF THE UNITED 
STATES. Compiled from authoritative sources. With 
portraits of the Presidents ; and also of the unsuccessful 
candidates for the office ; as well as the ablest of the 
Cabinet officers. 

This book should be in every home and school library. It tells, 
in an impartial way, the story of the political history of the United 
States, from the first Constitutional convention to the last Preaj- 


4 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 


dential nominations, it is just the book for intelligent boys, and it 
will help to make them intelligent and patriotic citizens. 

THE STORY OF ADVENTURE IN THE FROZEN 
SEA. With 70 illustrations. Compiled from authorized 
sources. 

We here have brought together the records of the attempts to 
reach the North Pole. Our object being to recall the stories of the 
early voyagers, and to narrate the recent efforts of gallant adven- 
turers of various nationalities to cross the “ unknown and inacces- 
ible * ’ threshold ; and to show how much can be accomplished by 
indomitable pluck and steady perseverance. Portraits and numer- 
ous illustrations help the narration. 

ILLUSTRATED NATURAL HISTORY. By the Rev. 
J. G. Wood. With 80 illustrations. 

Wood’s Natural History needs no commendation. Its author 
has done more than any other writer to popularize the study. His 
work is known and admired overall the civilized worL. The sales 
of his works in England and America have been enormous. The 
illustrations in this edition are entirely new, striking and life-like. 

A CHILD’S HISTORY OF ENGLAND. By Charles 
Dickens. With 50 illustrations. 

Dickens grew tired of listening to his children memorizing the 
old fashioned twaddle that went under the name of English his- 
tory. He thereupon wrote a book, in his own peculiarly happy 
style, primarily for the educational advantage of his own children, 
but was prevailed upon to publish the work, and make its use gen- 
eral. Its success was instantaneous and abiding. 

©LACK BEAUTY ; The Autobiography of a Horse. By 
Anna Sewell. With 50 illustrations 

This NEW illustrated edition is sure to command attention. 
Wherever children are, whether boys or girls, there this Autobiog- 
raphy should be. It inculcates habits of kindness to all members 
of the animal creation. The literary merit of the book is excellent. 

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. With 
50 illustrations. Contains the most favorably known of 
the stories. 

The text is somewhat abridged and edited for the young. It 
forms an excellent introduction to those immortal tales which have 
helped so long to keep the weary world young. 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE^ LIBRARY. 


5 


ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES. By Hans Christian An- 
dersen. With 77 illustrations. 

The spirit of high moral teaching, and the delicacy of sentiment, 
feeling and expression that pervade these tales make these won- 
derful creations not only attractive to the young, but equally accept- 
able to those of mature years, who are able to understand their 
real significance and appreciate the depth of their meaning. 

GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES. With 50 illustrations. 

These tales of the Brothers Grimm have carried their names into 
every household of the civilized world. 

The Tales are a wonderful collection, as interesting, from a lit- 
erary point of view, as they are delightful as stories. 

GRANDFATHER’S CHAIR; A History for Youth. By 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 60 illustrations. 

The story of America from the landing of the Puritans to the 
acknowledgment without reserve of the Independence of the 
United States, told with all the elegance, simplicity, grace, clear- 
ness and force for which Hawthorne is conspicuously noted. 

FLOWER FABLES. By Louisa May Alcott. With colored 
and plain illustrations. 

A series of very interesting fairy tales by the most charming of 
American story-tellers. 

AUNT MARTHA’S CORNER CUPBOARD. By Mary 
and Elizabeth Kirby. With 60 illustrations. 

Stories about Tea, Coffee, Sugar, Rice and Chinaware, and 
» other accessories of the well-kept Cupboard. A book full of in- 
terest for all the girls and many of the boys. 

WATER-BABIES; A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby. By 
Charles Kingsley. With 94 illustrations. 

“ Come read me my riddle, each good little man ; 

If you cannot read it, no grown-up folk can.” 

BATTLES OF THE WAR FOR INDEPENDENCE. By 
Prescott Holmes. With 70 illustrations. 

A graphic and full history of the Rebellion of the American Col- 
onies from the yoke and oppression of England, with the causes 


6 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE’S LIBRARY. 


that led thereto, and including an account of the second war with 
Great Britain, and the War with Mexico. 

BATTLES OF THE WAR FOR THE UNION. By 
Prescott Holmes. With 80 illustrations. 

A correct and impartial account of the greatest civil war in the 
annals of history. Both of these histories of American wars are 
a necessary part of the education of all intelligent American boys 
and girls. 

YOUNG PEOPLE’S HISTORY OF THE WAR WITH 
SPAIN. By Prescott Holmes. With 89 illustrations. 

This history of our war with Spain, in 1898, presents in a plain, 
easy style the splendid achievements of our army and navy, and 
the prominent figures that came into the public view during that 
period. Its glowing descriptions, wealth of anecdote, accuracy « f 
statement and profusion of illustration make it a most desirable 
gift- book for young readers. 

HEROES OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY. By 
Hartwell James. With 65 illustrations. 

The story of our navy is one of the most brilliant pages in the 
world’s history. The sketches and exploits contained in this vol- 
ume cover our entire naval history from the days of the honest, 
rough sailors of Revolutionary times, with their cutlasses and 
boarding pikes, to the brief war of 1898, when our superbly ap- 
pointed warships destroyed Spain’s proud cruisers by the merci- 
less accuracy of their fire. 

MILITARY HEROES OF THE UNITED STATES. 
By Hartwell James. With 97 illustrations. 

In this volume the brave lives and heroic deeds of our military 
heroes, from Paul Revere to Lawton, are told in the most captiva- 
ting manner. * The material for the work has been gathered from 
the North and the South alike. The volume presents all the im- 
portant facts in a manner enabling the young people of our united 
and prosperous land to easily become familiar with the command- 
ing figures that have arisen in our military history. 

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN; or Life Among the Lowly. By 
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. With 90 illustrations. 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE’S LIBRARY. 


7 


The unfailing interest in the famous old story suggested the need 
of an edition specially prepared for young readers, and elaborately 
illustrated. This edition completely fills that want. 

SEA KINGS AND NAVAL HEROES. By Hartwell 
James. With 50 illustrations. 

The most famous sea battles of the world, with sketches of the 
lives, enterprises and achievements of men who have become fam- 
ous in naval history. They are stories of brave lives in times of 
trial and danger, charmingly told for young people. 

POOR BOYS’ CHANCES. By John Habberton. With 
50 illustrations. 

There is a fascination about the writings of the author of 
“ Helen’s Babies,” from which none can escape. In this charm- 
ing volume, Mr. Habberton tells the boys of America how they 
can attain the highest positions in the land, without the struggles 
and privations endured by poor boys who rose to eminence and 
fame in former limes. 

ROMULUS, the Founder of Rome. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 49 illustrations. 

In a plain and connected narrative, the author tells the stories 
of the founder of Rome and his great ancestor, yEneas. These 
are of necessity somewhat legendary in character, but are pre- 
sented precisely as they have come down to us from ancient times. 
They are prefaced by an account of the life and inventions of Cad- 
mus, the “ Father of the Alphabet,” as he is often called. 

CYRUS THE GREAT, the Founder of the Persian Empire. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 40 illustrations. 

For nineteen hundred years, the story of the founder of the an- 
cient Persian empire has been read by every generation of man- 
kind. The story of the life and actions of Cyrus, as told by the 
author, presents vivid pictures of the magnificence of a monarchy 
that rose about five hundred years before the Christian era, and 
rolled on in undisturbed magnitude and glory for many centuries. 

ADVENTURES IN TOYLAND. By Edith King Hull. 
With 70 illustrations by Alice B. Woodward. 

The sayings and doings of the dwellers in toyland, related by 
one of them to a dear little girl. It is a delightful book for chil- 
dren, and admirably illustrated. 


8 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE’S LIBRARY. 


DARIUS THE GREAT, King of the Medes and Persians. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 34 illustrations. 

No great exploits marked the career of this monarch, who was 
at one time the absolute sovereign of nearly one-half of the world. 
He reached his high position by a stratagem, and left behind him 
no strong impressions of personal character, yet, the history of his 
life and reign should be read along with those of Cyrus, Caesar, 
Hannibal and Alexander. 

XERXES THE GREAT, King of Persia. By Jacob Ab- 
bott. With 39 illustrations. 

For ages the name of Xerxes has been associated in the minds 
of men with the idea of the highest attainable human magnificence 
and grandeur. He was the sovereign of the ancient Persian em- 
pire at the height of its prosperity and power. The invasion of 
Greece by the Persian hordes, the battle of Thermopylae, the burn- 
ing of Athens, and the defeat of the Persian galleys at Salamis are 
chapters of thrilling interest. 

THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE. By Miss 
Mulock, author of John Halifax, Gentleman, etc. With 
18 illustrations. 

One of the best of Miss Murlock’s charming stories for children. 
All the situations are amusing and are sure to please youthful 
readers. 

ALEXANDER THE GREAT, King of Macedon. By 
Jacob Abbott. With 51 illustrations. 

Bom heir to the throne of Macedon, a country on the confines 
of Europe and Asia, Alexander crowded into a brief career of 
twelve years a brilliant series of exploits. The readers of to-day 
will find pleasure and profit in the history of Alexander the Great, 
a potentate before whom ambassadors and princes from nearly all 
the nations of the earth bowed in humility. 

PYRRHUS, King of Epirus. By Jacob Abbott. With 45 
illustrations. 

The story of Pyrrhus is one of the ancient narratives which has 
been told and retold for many centuries in the literature, eloquence 
and poetry of all civilized nations. While possessed of extraordi- 
nary ability as a military leader, Pyrrhus actually accomplished 
nothing, but did mischief on a gigantic scale. He was naturally 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE’S LIBRARY. 


9 


of a noble and generous spirit, but only succeded in perpetrating 
crimes against the peace and welfare of mankind. 

HANNIBAL, the Carthaginian. By Jacob Abbott. With 
37 illustrations. 

Hannibal’s distinction as a warrior was gained during the des- 
perate contests between Rome and Carthage, known as the Punic 
wars. Entering the scene when his country was engaged in peace- 
ful traffic with the various countries of the known world, he turned 
its energies into military aggression , conquest and war, becoming 
himself one of the greatest military heroes the world has ever 
known. 

MIXED PICKLES. By Mrs. E. M. Field. With 31 illus- 
trations by T. Pym. 

A remarkably entertaining story for young people. The reader 
is introduced to a charming little girl whose mishaps while trying 
to do good are very appropriately termed “ Mixed Pickles.” 

JULIUS G/ESAR, the Roman Conqueror. By Jacob Ab- 
bott. With 44 illustrations. 

The life and actions of Julius Caesar embrace a period in Roman 
history beginning with the civil wars of Marius and Sylla and end- 
ing with the tragic death of Caesar Imperator. The work is an 
accurate historical account of the life and times of one of the great 
military figures in history, in fact, it is history itself, and as such is 
especially commended to the readers of the present generation. 

ALFRED THE GREAT, of England. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 40 illustrations. 

In a certain sense, Alfred appears in history as the founder of- 
the British monarchy : his predecessors having governed more like 
savage chieftains than English kings. The work has a special 
value for young readers, for the character of Alfred was that of an 
honest, conscientious and far-seeing statesman. The romantic 
story of Godwin furnishes the concluding chapter of the volume. 

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With 43 illustrations. 

The life and times of William of Normandy have always been a 
fruitful theme for the historian. War and pillage and conquest 
were at least a part of the everyday business of men in both Eng- 


IO 


ALTEMUS* VOUNG PEOPLE^ LIBRARY. 


land and France : and the story of William as told by the author 
of this volume makes some of the most fascinating pages in his- 
tory. It is especially delightful to young readers. 

HERNANDO CORTEZ, the Conqueror of Mexico. By 
Jacob Abbott. With 30 illustrations. 

In this volume the author gives vivid pictures of the wild and 
adventurous career of Cortez and his companions in the conquest 
of Mexico. Many good motives were united with those of ques- 
tionable character, in the prosecution of his enterprise, but in 
those days it was a matter of national ambition to enlarge the 
boundaries of nations and to extend their commerce at any cost. 
The career of Cortez is one of absorbing interest. 

THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE. By Miss Mulock. With 
24 illustrations. 

The author styles it “A Parable for Old and Young.” It is in her 
happiest vein and delightfully interesting, especially to youthful 
readers. 

MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. By Jacob Abbott. With 
45 illustrations. 

The story of Mary Stuart holds a prominent place in the present 
series of historical narrations. It has had many tellings, for the 
melancholy story of the unfortunate queen has always held a high 
place in the estimation of successive generations of readers. Her 
story is full of romance and pathos, and the reader is carried along 
by conflicting emotions of wonder and sympathy. 

QUEEN ELIZABETH, of England. By Jacob Abbott. 
With 49 illustrations. 

In strong contrast to the story of Mary, Queen of Scots, is that 
of Elizabeth, Queen of England. They were cousins, yet im- 
placable foes. Elizabeth’s reign was in many ways a glorious one, 
and her successes gained her the applause of the world. The 
stirring tales of Drake, Hawkins and other famous mariners of 
her time have been incorporated into the story of Elizabeth’s life 
and reign. 

KING CHARLES THE FIRST, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With 41 illustrations. 

The well-known figures in the stormy reign of Charles I. are 
brought forward in this narrative of his life and times. It is his- 
tory told in the most fascinating manner, and embraces the early 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 


II 


life of Charles ; the court of James I. ; struggles between Charles 
and the Parliament ; the Civil war ; the trial and execution of the 
king. The narrative is impartial and holds the attention of the 
reader. 

KING CHARLES THE SECOND, of England. By Jacob 
Abbott. With 38 illustrations. 

Beginning with his infancy, the life of the “ Merry Monarch ” 
is related in the author’s inimitable style. His reign was signal- 
ized by many disastrous events, besides those that related to his 
personal troubles and embarrassments. There were unfortunate 
wars ; naval defeats ; dangerous and disgraceful plots and con- 
spiracies. Trobule sat very lightly on the shoulders of Charles II., 
however, and the cares of state were easily forgotten in the society 
of his court and dogs. 

THE SLEEPY KING. By Aubrey Hopwood and Seymour 
Hicks. With 77 illustrations by Maud Trelawney. 

A charmingly-told Fairy Tale, full of delight and entertain- 
ment. The illustrations are original and striking, adding greatly 
to the interest of the text. 

MARIA ANTOINETTE, Queen of France. By John S. C. 
Abbott. With 42 illustrations. 

The tragedy of Maria Antoinette is one of the most mournful in 
the history of the world. “Her beauty dazzled the whole king- 
dom,” says Lamartine. Her lofty and unbending spirit under 
unspeakable indignities and atrocities, enlists and holds the sympa- 
thies of the readers of to-day, as it has done in the past. 

MADAME ROLAND, A Heroine of the French Revolution. 
By Jacob Abbott. With 42 illustrations. 

The French Revolution developed few, if any characters more 
worthy of notice than that of Madame Roland. The absence of 
playmates, in her youth, inspired her with an insatiate thirst for 
knowledge, and books became her constant companions in every 
unoccupied hour. She fell a martyr to the tyrants of the French 
Revolution, but left behind her a careei full of instruction that 
never fails to impress itself upon the reader. 

JOSEPHINE, Empress of France. By Jacob Abbott. With 
40 illustrations. 


12 


ALTEMUS* YOUNG PEOPLE'S LIBRARY. 


Maria Antoinette beheld the dawn of the French Revolution ; 
Madame Roland perished under the lurid glare of its high noon ; 
Josephine saw it fade into darkness. She has been called the 
“ Star of Napoleon ; ” and it is certain that she added luster to 
his brilliance, and that her persuasive influence was often exerted 
to win a friend or disarm an adversary. The lives of the Empress 
Josephine, of Maria Antoinette, and of Madame Roland are 
especially commended to young lady readers. 

TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE. By Charles and Mar)’ 
Lamb. With 80 illustrations. 

The text is somewhat abridged and edited for young people, but 
a clear and definite outline of each play is presented. Such episodes 
or incidental sketches of character as are not absolutely necessary 
to the development of the tales are omitted, while the many moral 
lessons that lie in Shakespeare’s plays and make them valuable in 
the training of the young are retained. The book is winning, help- 
ful and an effectual guide to the “ inner shrine” of the great 
dramatist. 

MAKERS OF AMERICA. By Hartwell James. With 75 
illustrations. 

This volume contains attractive and suggestive sketches of the 
lives and deeds of men who illustrated some special phase in the 
political, religious or social life of our country, from its settlement 
to the close of the eighteenth century. It affords an opportunity 
for young readers to become easily familiar with these characters 
and their historical relations to the building of our Republic. An 
account of the discovery of America prefaces the work. 

A WONDER BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. By 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. With 50 illustrations. 

In this volume the genius of Hawthorne has shaped anew 
wonder tales that have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or 
three thousand years. Seeming « never to have been made” they 
are legitimate subjects for eveiy age to clothe with its own fancy 
as to manners and sentiment, and its own views of morality. The 
volume has a charm for old and young alike, for the author has 
not thought it necessary to “ write downward ” in order to meet 
the comprehension of children. 























































































































































